A Minor Incident
by missus brokkenbroll
Summary: This is about Luna Lovegood. She was brave and she was bold. She believed in ten impossible things before breakfast. She believed in the best of people. Warning for non-Luna suicide.
1. Hands and Knees

**Hands and Knees**

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><p><em>July, the summer before Luna Lovegood began her third year at Hogwarts.<em>

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><p>She walked through her forest. Trees grew tall and thin around her. It was as familiar to her as the shelves in her room and the rickety furniture of her home. It was her home. She hummed quietly to herself, having found a grackle-sack on her walk. She was so pleased. As the trees began to grow fewer and farther in between she caught sight of her beautiful little house.<p>

And the second she did she knew that something had gone wrong. It was peaceful, it was quiet, and it was never quiet. There were none of the bangs and clangs that made the place cozy. And the person that made those noises—the person that made this home—was nowhere to be seen.

Her gut sinking into her shoes, Luna dropped the basket she brought on these excursions and ran back to the house. She threw open the front door and glanced about. Cautiously she stepped over the threshold. Heading toward the bedroom her father occupied, she whispered without knowing why. "Dad?"

The bedroom door swung open unbidden, as it was apt to do. Luna stood frozen, wishing beyond wishing that she couldn't see what she saw. The door swung back and forth, temperamental as ever.

_Close, _she thought. The idea reverberated hollowly through her skull. _Close. Close._

It swung shut again, but her eyes stared at the door, still seeing what was behind it: Xenophilius Lovegood hanging by his neck, eyes open and unseeing.

"Daddy?" she choked, try as she did to stop the strangled sound escaping her throat. The indignity of it added insult to injury. Tears began to flow, and drip down her flowery dress. She could remember picking it that morning, and his compliment on it, and his suggestion she go walking for the day. A good, old-fashioned exploration. And while she was away...? She felt stupid. She turned away from the door, which had again swung open to reveal her dead father. His shocking white hair and blue robes limp on his body. She pretended it wasn't there and tried to work out what to do.

Luna had no one else in the world. Not a mother, not an aunt, nobody. She didn't even have a neighbor. She had no friends. Neither had her father. She had to tell someone. She needed an adult, and there was only one she was certain she could trust. The only authority figure she trusted farther than she could chuck a red-faced Triggleskenk.

So after hastily crafting a letter she stood in front of her house and watched an owl fly away, far away to Dumbledore. Her tears dried in a twilight breeze, and she sat down to wait for him.

It was hours until he made it to her. Dumbledore had received the owl and Apparated without a second thought. Luna was sitting on her steps, hugging a knapsack to her chest when she fell asleep. He discovered her like that, folded in on herself and trembling with cold. Dumbledore carefully stepped around her. He had been here once before, to interview with Xenophilius for the Quibbler. The story had been dropped when Dumbledore had failed to comment on the supposed Goblin heritage of Cornelius Fudge.

Dumbledore knew what awaited in the bedroom from Luna's letter. Gingerly he pushed the door open, with everything in his body fighting against his movement. It never got any easier for him, seeing people with the light gone out of their eyes. He levitated the body and set it magically down on the bed, trying not to vomit. Dead bodies always made him sick. Unsure of what to do with it after putting it in a more manageable position, he turned away and stood for a second.

Now that was... reasonably dealt with, he'd have to see to Luna. He wondered why this fell on his shoulders.

Night had fallen long ago, and it was pitch-black in the country. Dumbledore joined Luna on the step. He took several deep breaths, stood before her, sat down once more, then stood again. How best to approach this? The shaking of her perch woke her and she sat calmly up, and looked at him with empty, red-rimmed eyes. The twinkle so familiar to all his students was absent from his eyes as he returned the gaze.

"Hello, Professor," Luna said quietly, and it calmed them both.

Dumbledore smiled gently. "Hello, Luna." He finally joined her on the bench and they sat in silence for a while, both thinking, Dumbledore panicking. She was depending on him, this little girl. Just like Arabella. He didn't know what to do then and he didn't know what to do now. They sat until Dumbledore felt he might burst.

"I can't pretend it's up to me where you go, Luna. And despite the wishes you expressed in your letter the Ministry of Magic must have a certificate of death on file, which means somebody needs to take care of the body." Her face reddened.

"Nobody will want me," Luna said frankly. "Do I have to go to a children's home? Is there a children's home for wizards?"

"Don't you have any relatives?" Dumbledore asked, hearing the desperation in his own voice. He wondered for the seventh time why this was all up to him.

Quieter than she'd ever said anything, she whispered, "I used to have an aunt. My dad's sister, his twin. She's died, two months ago, while I was at school. He loved her - " Her breath caught.

"...So much. I used to have a mum, too," she said and looked up at him. She'd told him the story before, but she faced it again. Her chest filled with some emotion she was too tired to label, and she found strength enough to keep speaking. "But she's dead too. Everyone's dead."

His eyes crumpled in painfully genuine sadness, for her and in a way for himself. "I'm very sorry."

Luna wondered whether she should've told someone that her father cried in the mornings, and that he'd spend whole days in complete silence, without eating or sleeping. Luna wondered whether this was her fault. Her head bent under the weight of that thought, and Dumbledore studied the fall of her hair in front of her face.

Suddenly, the ever-spinning gears of his consciousness had set upon an idea, latched onto this most radical and strange notion. Finally, a plan began to formulate in his mind and he set it in motion. With this, the entire course of Luna's life was changed. With this one thought, Dumbledore ensured Luna would live forever in the hearts and minds of millions. With this, Luna was condemned to death.

It could've turned out differently - but it didn't.


	2. Fighting in a Sack

**Fighting in a Sack**

Dumbledore Apparated, with Luna by his side, to the outskirts of Hogwarts. He began to traipse up the grounds, and Luna followed him as best she could, carrying her bags. Walking too quickly, he tripped inelegantly over his own robes. He pulled them out of his way, revealing spindly legs.

"Why are we here, Professor?" Luna asked without difficulty.

He huffed and puffed in response. "_I_ need to go to the Ministry, and sort out your living arrangements. _You_ will wait in my office." Grinning quickly in her direction and shuddering inwardly, Dumbledore thought of the scene she'd make at the Ministry. Yes. Now with his plan in complete order he knew this was best, knew how to proceed. He'd leave her on middle ground.

In silence they passed the lake and in silence they crossed the threshold. It was the dead of night and the school was eerily empty. Luna looked about and something to fill the dreadful soundlessness occurred to her. "Do you live here all year? Even in the summer?"

He smiled. "Well, I take a vacation in the beginning of summer that is always too brief, but there is much to be done before the school year begins." They both realized that he'd begun to ramble, but neither cared to acknowledge it. As he continued he gestured and strolled and it filled the time.

"We need to refresh the charms on the suits of armor, and lesson plans must be drawn up. The safeguards on the borders of Hogwarts need refreshing. And of course, someone has to be around for the house-elves to wait on or they go a bit mad-we once returned from an experimental extended vacation to find the walls covered in gelatin and beef. I drop breakfast scraps on the fourth floor." They had almost reached Dumbledore's office, a room Luna knew well. "And of course Professor McGonagall must compose and sign the letters to go to the students. It takes her a week and that is _with_ magic. Professor Flitwick is gone at the World Cup, but he'll be back soon enough. Professor Snape keeps to the dungeons, and Mr Filch is looking through joke shop catalogs, finding things to ban."

As she followed Dumbledore up his staircase she could almost imagine that she had been sent to the Headmaster's office again, and could expect an owl from Dad on Sunday, and that tonight she would nestle into a comfortable four-poster bed and drift to sleep, and the last thing she saw would be the picture she kept by her bed, of her father and herself waving side by side on holiday.

Then she remembered the hanging body. Dumbledore assured Luna that she'd be safe before he left, but she didn't need it. She'd always felt completely safe here, no matter who chased her through the corridors or stole her things.

Now Dumbledore sat at the chair behind his desk and shut his eyes for just a moment. Then he turned to Luna, who was standing beside the hearth in his office. Quiet and cold, she wished silently there was a fire. Dumbledore stood, crossed the room, and conjured a few flames. Immediately the atmosphere lightened. The warmth from the fire radiated and Luna settled herself into an armchair thoughtlessly. Peacefully. She closed her eyes and Dumbledore observed her with tenderness in his eyes. He felt so much for all his children.

Dumbledore patted her head. "I'll be back soon, Ms Lovegood," he said quietly, feeling the rumble of his own voice through his chest. With a bright green flash he disappeared into the Floo network, and Luna stared at the fire for less than five minutes before she dropped off to sleep.


	3. Fame

**Fame**

"No."

"Molly—"

"Albus, you have to understand the situation I am in-"

"No, allow _me _to explain the situation!" His eyebrows knit together and he stood taller than everybody in the room as it fell silent.

Albus Dumbledore had had a hard night. Standing in a room that was too small for him, Albus had begun to crack under the pressure of this endless, endless night - but staring into the frightened eyes of Mrs Weasley, he breathed and softened. "I have a girl sitting in my office, with no family, no hope - and _you are her last chance_. You are all she has!"

Mrs Weasley put her hands on her hips and stood her ground. "We don't even know the girl, Albus!" Her mind, which operated not unlike his, was doing calculations of its own and making plans. The mind of a mother is very like that of a schoolmaster - in a thousand places at once. While he decided the fates of hundreds of young adolescents, while he groomed them and matured them, she did much the same thing in _addition_ to the shopping lists. If he hadn't been the most brilliant wizard since Merlin himself Molly definitely wouldn't have been impressed.

And this authority began to set in as he straightened. "You know I wouldn't ask unless it was important."

Albus Dumbledore sat down in the kitchen of the Burrow with Molly, Arthur, and Ginny Weasley as silence set in again. Molly was pacing a well-known path through her kitchen. Ginny sat on a stool beside the stove. Her father leaned against it.

Charlie and Bill were asleep in their respective beds, dead-tired from god-knows-what. Ron, Harry, Fred and George sat completely quietly just outside the doors. Percy sat on the staircase a few steps up, lecturing loudly about eavesdropping.

"It's a violation of trust, and on top of that it is nothing to do with any of you—"

Finally George hissed up at him, "Oh, just fuck off! Anyway, how _exactly_ did you figure out we were eavesdropping, Perce? Did you maybe _eavesdrop_?"

He shut up. Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Dumbledore was leaning on the countertop, collecting his thoughts. After a pause, he whispered so that the boys outside had to strain to hear him. "She needs you, Molly. She is incredibly smart, but she… She gets taken advantage of at Hogwarts; if she went to an orphanage she wouldn't survive! Not to mention the girl's tendency towards truth - there's a real risk of a breach in Magical Secrecy. I couldn't in right conscience do it. You are her only hope. She needs taking care of."

Arthur put his arm around his wife, who'd stopped pacing to stare at Dumbledore. "What, exactly, is wrong with her?"

"Well, her father was Xenophilius Lovegood, for one."

Arthur Weasley snorted. "That lunatic? Everyone at the office thinks he's mad - I tried to start a conversation once and he made fun of my sparkplug collection..." Arthur sounded offended at the old injustice. Albus sighed.

"He committed suicide this morning, and she has no one in this world." Ginny gasped. Albus paused, not taking his eyes off Molly, who dropped her gaze and stared at the floor. "From what I can tell she doesn't even have a friend at Hogwarts. Luna Lovegood is completely lost in her own world. Very smart, but she thinks everything the teachers say is nonsense. She makes it by on sheer talent!"

"Excuse me," Ginny said. For the first time all eyes turned to her. "I know Luna. Everyone calls her Loony, but… But she's actually very nice. Funny." Her voice started small, but she soon gained volume and confidence. "I saved her once, from these fourth years throwing eggs at her. And when I got her to a lavatory to calm down she's cleaning this necklace and wiping it off. She has yolk dripping down her face and she says, 'All better.' I haven't seen her cry, ever. Can't imagine she's not crying now, though…" Ginny trailed off, looking down at her hands.

Dumbledore nodded sadly. "I spoke with the Ministry. As a foster family you would be awarded an allowance per month to help pay her expenses. All you'd have to do is… raise her."

Molly, who'd been silent for a while, looked up again at Dumbledore. "How?" she asked. "How'd he do it?"

"Hanged." Mrs Weasley burst into tears.

"And… and she had to find him, did she? They lived alone?" Ginny asked. Mr Weasley drew his wife into him.

"Yes, she did. I need to know. Can you help her? I ask you all, because if I presume correctly… You two will be sharing a room."

Ginny's eyes flickered with defiant goodwill as she muttered, "Of course. Hermione's here, so we'll have to squeeze, but we'll squeeze." Dumbledore's eyes met Arthur's, and he nodded.

"If you don't mind, next time I'll Floo directly in." Tossing powder into the fireplace, he spun away. Mrs Weasley got herself together, wiping her eyes. She sent Ginny to bed, who opened the doors to the kitchen only to hit Fred in the face. Shrieking, she admonished them all, not least of all Percy, who was still sitting on the steps. Soon just she and Mr Weasley stood in the kitchen, and their eyes met for exactly fifteen seconds. After so many years of marriage, that was all they needed. Then she was gone again, in a whirlwind of tidying up.

Upstairs, Ron and Harry lay awake in silence. Until, "She's in our year."

Ron responded to Harry's whispered statement. "Apparently she's mad. Even Dumbledore said."

"Maybe she knows Cho Chang," Harry mused, to a laugh from Ron.

Just a flight of stairs down, the twins were plotting, Fred in striped pajama bottoms and George in footie pajamas. They were talking very quietly, whispering by the light of their wands. _Why_, they wondered, _didn't Ludo Bagman take them seriously? _

Soon, though, they settled into bed. Their half-lucid talk turned to the mysterious girl coming to join their family. Fred finally muttered, closing his eyes, "Doesn't she sound like she might be"

"a bit of a laugh?" they asked each other.

"But she could be a complete disaster," George finished. "Who knows who she is? What if she messes with our plans?"

"What plans?" Fred asked confusedly.

"Well, I don't know, but we're bound to have some." George looked to his brother for some support, but Fred just chuckled at his twin and gave him an affectionate grin.

"Everything will be okay, little brother," Fred laughed.

"Don't call me that," George responded, closing his eyes. "Git..."

And they drifted.


	4. Kick Drum Heart

**Kick Drum Heart**

Dumbledore gently prodded her awake, and as her eyes fluttered open she smelled pancakes. Her stomach growled and Luna remembered that she hadn't eaten since the morning. She scratched her head. Past experience told her that her stomach would stop growling soon, and then she could ignore her hunger for hours more. She'd eat in the morning, with her dad. He'd make her pancakes. He'd make up for the fact that they hadn't gone to the World Cup when he promised that they would, make up for the fact he'd been too tired, make up for the fact he'd needed a bit more rest and a bit more time and a bit more to live for.

It all came back, crashing on her like waves on the shore, sickening and horrifying. She tried to focus on Dumbledore's words. "—and most of all, it'll be safe, Luna. The Weasleys are all waiting for you."

Luna knew of the Weasleys. As she got to her feet she struggled to remember their names. _There's those twins in Gryffindor, that nice girl in third year, and another I can't remember._

In a swish of fire she is in a crowded kitchen. There is only one person, but books pile everywhere, and lamps, chairs, stools, papers, chimes and pots and—

_Food._

From the moment the scent hit Luna, she was transfixed. Suddenly, she was faint with hunger. A pot was bubbling on the stove, and it was the most delicious thing she'd ever smelled. A wild-looking woman hustled out of the living room she noticed now, muttering angrily under her breath. "The place is a _pigsty. _I can't possibly get it clean before she arrives. What is she going to think? And you're just sitting there completely calm, might as well go play with your plugs, what else are you good for? Do you realize that first impressions—" But Mr Weasley never found out about impressions, because Mrs Weasley finally saw Luna standing out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to study her. Luna silently begged for whatever was in the pot.

"Oh, goodness, she looks faint. _Do you feel faint, dear?_" Mrs Weasley enunciated every syllable a little desperately. She had raised seven children. It was her job to know everything, from where Ginny's jumper was to where the world came from to how to scare away the monsters under the bed. What Mrs Weasley didn't know how to deal with was Luna Lovegood.

It was quiet. Dumbledore didn't interfere, but watched to see how the family dynamic might play out. Luna didn't appear fazed. So Arthur Weasley decided to be the sane one and stood to get Luna a bowl of soup. Gesturing to the table, he said to Mrs Weasley quietly, "No need to shout, Molly, she's right here," more out of habit than anything. Luna sat down at the chair he pointed to.

"I wasn't sure if she understood," Mrs Weasley replied, finally sitting on a stool. "She's so skinny, just like Ron. There might be something in the water at Hogwarts, don't you think there might be?"

"Not sure what that has to do with her understanding." He set a bowl down in front of Luna, who raised a spoon laid on the table. "You'll love this soup, Luna," he said, and the feeling of her name in his mouth was odd. She looked up and their eyes met for just a second. There was something in that moment, as the foster father looked at the foster daughter and realized that this child was _theirs_ now. Theirs to feed, theirs to clothe and theirs to love.

The transfer of responsibility was almost visible as he fell into a chair and rubbed his eyes. At that, Dumbledore knew that this was going to be okay. With every other person lost in thought, he smiled fondly at them all, and left via the back door. As he strode away a safe distance, he muttered bemusedly at no one, "I hate traveling by Floo powder," and was gone with a _POP!_

Soon the time had come for them all to go to bed. Mrs Weasley stood and collected Luna's plate. "Let's go upstairs. You'll be staying in Ginny's room, dear, I think you know her?"

As Luna stood and followed Mrs Weasley to the stairway. "Yes, I do a bit. She helps me sometimes. If someone didn't know us they might think we were friends." Molly had nothing to say to that and let it pass. When they opened Ginny's door, on the penultimate floor, Mrs Weasley showed Luna a clear path to the bed in the far corner of the room, and shut the door with a quiet goodbye.

It was fairly obvious that things had been shoved aside to make room for it, and Luna had an inkling it was a transfigured dresser, as there were drawers all over it that probably still had clothes in them. Still, fresh sheets spread across the mattress, and when she slipped in between them with her clothes still on they were already warm. Somehow, even though this blanket didn't have holes in it, she felt a bit chillier than she would've at home. She realized she might not ever see her bedroom again, and it was sad. What was even sadder was that there was nothing there for her now. Her father was gone, her possessions shoved in a knapsack.

Luna knew in that moment that she was alone, and she laid back and let the feeling consume her, flooding her chest until she couldn't breathe.

Luna jolted awake from a nightmare, and was surprised for two seconds to be in a new place before she remembered. She was in dire need of a shower. Sunlight permeated the empty room, and she had the feeling is was pretty close to noon. She just didn't know what side of it she was on. Lifting herself regretfully out of bed, she stepped with tender feet on the ground and stood cautiously there. She finally got a good look around: Ginny's bed in another corner of the room, and a camp bed leaning on a wall. There was a dresser beside the door and a vanity desk beside that. It was covered in make-up and hair product. Pasted, stapled and tacked on the walls were photos of celebrities and Quidditch players and what could only be assumed to be smiling members of the Weasley clan.

Toys littered the ground. Bits of food, pages of a Chudley Cannons calender, clothes, and what might've been the sharp remains of a soda can that had been blown to bits. Picking her way delicately through the debris she reached the door. Stepping into the hallway she heard raucous voices from downstairs, and from right above her head a moan and a stomp.

Her little excursion outside was enough to convince her a trip downstairs was in order. Nodding her head to herself, she stepped lightly back into the room and extracted a brush and her wand from her knapsack. Luna pulled the brush absently through her hair and tucked her wand behind her ear. As she put her brush back into her knapsack, she noticed her playing cards. Without thinking she put them in her back pocket. They were something of a security blanket to Luna, whose father taught her Muggle card games and tricks from an early age.

Armed with everything she needed in the world, she turned towards the door and stepped toward adventure.

Turning the hallway corner and stepping immediately onto stairs, she was shocked at the color that greeted her. She saw things she hadn't noticed in the night. As she descended the stairs Luna noticed each floor she passed had different fading wallpaper. She noticed each door was different. She passed a floor with a very narrow hallway and two doors off it. One was pale blue, and had a sign: "KEEP OUT" and in smaller letters: "THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!" and another that was painted white and very blank. The next flight down had a door remarkably like a hospitals', but with many complicated locks. A shiny placard read, "Bill and Charlie's Room." The house seemed to Luna very much as if it had been pieced together like patchwork.

With each stair she got closer to the sound of laughter, and when she finally reached it every pair of bright, happy eyes faced her. She stuck one hand in her back pocket out of nervous habit and with the other gave a little wave.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ronald Weasley exchanged looks. They had never seen this girl before. Sure, Hogwarts was a big place, but how had they never glimpsed her? She was so recognizable. Fred attempted to exchange a look with George, but for once he didn't sense it. George's eyes locked onto Luna Lovegood.

Her dirty blonde hair fell to mid-back. Her clothing was absurdly wrinkled and her eyes were most mysterious, interesting eyes he'd ever seen—were they silver? Was she a Veela? She had such bright, fascinating eyes. She had a pale face and she gave George the impression of some dryad that would flit in and out of his life like a candle goes out. She stared at something behind him, or maybe one of the other people in the room. _Look at me,_ he thought quietly. His heart beat a little faster and it was too much.

George was always satisfied to be put a little to the side—how can you not be in a family with so many children, with Fred as your twin? They were loud, he was louder. They made mischief, but he planned it. George could never shake the feeling that maybe he was just going along with Fred, and that his whole life was just going along with Fred. He avoided that line of thinking, because if he was that begged the question, what would he do if he couldn't follow Fred? Which led to a question of what he would do without Fred, at which point George absolutely terminated that train of thought. The train of thought went off the tracks and down a ravine.

But with this girl… He needed to be looked at. He needed those eyes to look at him because in the back of his mind he thought if they didn't, neither she or he would be real. He felt that if those eyes looked at him they would both be more substantial. His feverish, nervous thinking was interrupted by reality, and his twin began to talk.

Ginny had pulled her into a chair. All eyes were trained on her as she sat between Ginny and Ron, who leaned slightly toward her without realizing it, studying her face with fascination. Hermione was glancing from him to her, her eyes narrowing slightly. Fred leaned forward to shake Luna's hand. Usually George would follow him, but he didn't. He just stared.

"I'm Fred," he said simply, and leaned back in his chair, glancing at George. He looked at everyone else, and when they didn't seem willing, he decided to do introductions. "Er, this is Hermione. Ronald… Harry, er, and George."

Luna began, "Well, I'm—" when a door suddenly slammed open and shut and Mrs Weasley hobbled into the house. She set aside a bag of tomatoes that immediately toppled over and spilled onto the counter, probably bruising the lot. Mrs Weasley almost growled as she went rummaging through cabinets for a bottle she eventually found.

"George! Fred! I ask you to de-Gnome the garden, and I go out there, and I get a bite on my ankle for my trouble, what do you think of that? You never listen to me, and I can always tell!"

"De-Gnome? Why would you ever?" Luna asked suddenly. Mrs Weasley noticed her now, and opened her mouth to speak, but Luna continued. "Gnomes are so powerful. Do you have an infestation here? What a blessing! And a bite is a miracle!" Luna studied Mrs Weasley from her chair. "Do you think you could declaim in Mermish? Gnome bites have been known to encourage spouts of creativity."

Mrs Weasley closed her mouth. Then opened it again. And then thought better of replying and closed it again. Luna, however, said encouragingly, "Go on," thinking that this was Mrs Weasley's attempt.

Mrs Weasley closed her eyes, shook her head, and said, "Why don't you go have a bit of a wash-up, dear? Ginny, help her, would you?"

As Ginny began to pull her away, Luna glanced back at Mrs Weasley. "Not even a gurgle?" and when she was a flight away on the stairs, she could be heard shouting, "Just give it a try!"

This prompted a loud, "I. AM. _WORKING!_" from Percy's room.

Which prompted an even louder, "Well go work in your _office!_" from Ginny. There was no reply to that, because Percy did not want to talk about the fact that his new job at the ministry didn't actually mean he got an office, but a small cubbyhole for his hat and one of the smallest and most out-of-place desks outside Barty Crouch's office. George, who hadn't spoken since he saw Luna for the first time, abruptly dissolved into a fit of giggles. He was followed quickly by Fred.


	5. Sleeping

**Sleeping**

An hour later Luna was dressed and clean. She smelled flowery, having had to use Ginny's soap. Usually she used the lye soap her father made himself, but she hadn't thought to bring any.

She pulled on a favorite dress. It was white, and puffed out charmingly at the bodice and ended at her knees. She added turquoise tights, which in her mind matched the dress. Luna felt quite pretty.

Leaving the bathroom, she creeped again down the stairs. She decided to venture into the garden when she didn't come across anybody in either the kitchen or the living room. There were Wellington boots covering the steps outside the back door, which she stepped over. As she did, she locked eyes with a twin.

He was considerably sweaty, but Luna didn't notice that. He was also covered in grass bits, but she didn't notice that either. Neither did she notice when he looked her up and down, gave her a quizzical look, and blushed. She didn't notice this because she was gazing into his eyes, as she did everybody. She wasn't quite sure why. It made people squirm. She didn't enjoy making people squirm, but she always found herself doing it as if by habit.

She didn't know much about eye colors, but his seemed to be hazel. They were mostly brown, but then there were bits that were green and even gold, which Luna found endlessly fascinating. The thought that she could spend ages looking at them popped into her head and was promptly abandoned in the shuffle of thoughts she shifted through like cards in her head.

"I'm Luna," she said in a quietly cheerful way. "I'm sorry, but I can't tell any of you apart. Are you… Ron?"

He laughed shakily. "No, no, I-I'm one of the twins. George?" She shrugged.

"I'm not good with faces. I was looking for everybody… I feel a bit lost." She was looking around her now. Trees surrounded the house. There were pathways leading into the wood and around the garden.

George wondered whether any of his brothers had really noticed this girl. Her collarbones stood out, and made her long neck look that much longer. Thin limbs hung at her sides in a lovely reckless fashion. For what he would say for years after the very first time, he noticed that she was truly exceedingly pretty. She had a heart-shaped face and light, blonde eyebrows and eyelashes. Her lips were almost heart-shaped as well, with the bottom lip much plumper than the top. They both looked so soft. Every part of her looked soft. Her skin, her lips, her hair. Her hair in particular—there was so much of it. Everytime she moved it swung back and forth.

George blushed again, and began to ramble, trying to cover up the fact that he was _checking his foster sister out_. The thought gave him a shudder. It was just too spectacularly creepy. "You're in the garden now, and if you go down that way everyone is playing Quidditch. Mum is probably inside, in the laundry room—"

She interrupted him. She wanted to explain her feelings, why she didn't feel like she could do anything right now. "Well, I don't really feel lost… directionally. I just don't know anybody here. I don't have anything to do. And… and I can't really contribute anything. And when you feel like that, it makes you think, you know. What's the point? If you're not doing anything. If you don't have a purpose."

She chuckled and looked at her feet as if they were interesting. Her wand was tucked behind her ear and George studied it, if for no other reason than to avoid look at her. It made him feel even guiltier to hear her speak. He should be trying to help her. George sympathized with Luna, because she knew how to make people understand where she was coming from, because she used nothing but hard-edged truth blunted by cheery serenity.

"Let me show you around, huh? Give you proper tour." A smile spread slowly across her face and he felt a burgeoning blush and grin. He allowed himself to touch her, putting his hand on her back to direct her to toward the garden. They began to walk. "This is the tomato patch, and over there are the spices and seasons." George looked at her with a goofy grin, ecstatic to begin. Then he realized that Luna wasn't smiling anymore. She was staring into the distance. Suddenly she smiled a great wild smile so quickly it took him a minute to register the change. That minute was the minute that Luna began to run.

Luna was incredibly fast. Anyone else he'd be able to catch up with in a second, but Luna stayed out of his reach. They were far from the Burrow before he even realized what she was running after, at which point she was still flitting lightly from tree to tree and he felt like his head weighed 80 pounds.

Luna was chasing a Jack Russell Terrier. Which was just weird.

"Slow—down!" he yelled at her between gasps.

"No!" she said easily. Then she propelled herself faster, and the dog was close, close, close—she reached out, almost had the dog within her grasp—

It slipped away as she came to a stop and fell on the ground gasping. Soon George was beside her, fallen and grinning and gasping. "You shouldn't… lay on the ground… in your white… dress… thing." He gestured vaguely at her dress.

"Why?" she asked, her dreamy eyes wide and truly bewildered.

He sat up. "Well I dunno. Mum always tells it to Ginny. Usually more aggressively." Luna noticed then that his nose turned up very slightly. "Do you play Quidditch?" he asked.

"Never," she replied, staring up at him and his nose.

He smiled at her. "Oh! Well, you're very fit," George said, and his cheeks burned crimson. "I just mean, you're f-fit as a fiddle! I mean—well, you run really fast. You could be good, if you're as quick on a broom."

Luna imagined herself as a Seeker, or Keeper, or Beecher. Wait, no, that wasn't right at all… "I've never played Quidditch," she said happily. She liked lying on the ground.

George looked appalled, and his voice took on a new note of confidence as he sized up their surroundings. "Well, I'll teach you. Everyone plays Quidditch in this family, except Ginny."

"Why doesn't Ginny play?" Luna asked quietly.

George shrugged. "Not sure, really. We never let her play with us when we were young. And now I guess she just doesn't want to."

Ginny said nothing, and he laid down on his back again. She was engrossed in a clump of leaves on a nearby branch, feeling more calm and at ease than she had since she could remember. With this boy beside her, she felt… as if things would definitely be okay. Nobody could stop them, together. She could feel his body heat beside her, and she fought the impulse she had to grab hold of his hand.

_That would be a little too odd,_ she thought, unaware that he was fighting the same impulse.

"Let's go," he said abruptly, and she was sad as he stood up and looked down at her. Then he put out his hand to help her up.

She took it. She was suddenly very conscious of herself. George was suddenly aware of how dirty and calloused his hands were. "Thank you."

He smiled widely at her. They made their way together to the "Quidditch pitch." Looking up, they saw Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Fred all floating about on brooms.

"They look amazing, don't they?" Ginny asked. She had appeared beside them, staring up. "God, I love flying," she said to herself in a reverent whisper. Luna smiled.

George waved to his twin. "Hey kids! C'mon down!" Fred let out a tremendous whoop, and descended rapidly toward his brother. He was followed by Ron and Harry. Hermione, however, seemed to be having some difficulty. She didn't so much land as fall out of the sky with her legs somehow tangled with her broom, falling solidly on her back.

"Hullo, George! Luna. I'm getting much better," she said unconvincingly and with a grimace. Fred laughed and helped her up. Once she was on her feet, Fred ruffled her hair, which was already windswept and falling out of its ponytail. "I need to work on landing is all and then I think I'll be good to go."

George grinned. "Luna's come to learn." Hermione's eyes lit up.

"Oh, brilliant! In that case, I lied. I'm not getting any better at all. You can take my place." She shoved her broom into Luna's arms and ran to get a book from the house.

Everyone prepared to kick off. "_Wait,_" Ginny said. "Wait one bloody moment!" They all turned.

"What is it, Ginny?" Ron asked.

"Luna's going to play?" Ginny asked calmly.

"Yes," George said. "So?"

"Well. Right," Ginny said, and stomped off to the broom cupboard. She returned with Charlie's old broom, and said, "I'm playing."

Fred laughed at her. "Do you even know how, Ginny?" Ginny took her broomstick, weighed it experimentally in her hand, looked at Fred and thumped him on the head.

"_I'm playing._"

"Ouch!" Fred exclaimed. "What the bloody hell _Ginny!_ Alright! Fine! Merlin…"

They split into two three-person teams, with Ron and Fred as Keepers for each respective team. Ginny and George were Ron's Chasers, and Harry and Luna were Fred's. Hermione threw up the Quaffle to begin the game, and then settled against a tree to read the book she'd brought along.

"You'd better be good, Ginny!" George shouted, laughing.

George grabbed the Quaffle in mid-air and threw towards Ginny, who zoomed away and toward Fred's goal. He wasn't expecting her, but reflexes prevailed and just as she lobbed the ball into his "hoop," which was only a little bit imaginary, the stick he was allowed to play with connected with the ball. It sailed toward Harry, who plucked it cleanly out of the air and he hurtled forward gracefully until Ginny came out of nowhere. They were a hairsbreadth away and she reached out to scrabble for the ball in his hands.

He laughed as she reached and pulled it out of her swing. He chucked it behind him into seemingly empty air, but Luna was waiting beneath him and grabbed the Quaffle, zooming toward Ron's goal and feeling quite put-upon. Beads of sweat prickled on her forehead and she experienced a rush of adrenaline as she sped up within feet of Ron. He was in his comfort zone and thus on his game. He steadied himself with his left hand and he lifted his fist to hit anything that came his way.

Luna glanced down and saw Harry. She lifted her head again and kept steady eye contact with Ron, distracting him as she dropped the Quaffle into Harry's waiting arms. He threw it past Ron into the hoop, and Fred's team made its first goal.

The game continued in much the same way, ending with 50-90 and a victory for Ron, George and Ginny. Mrs Weasley was calling them in for dinner and everyone was laughing. Fred had his arm around Luna, George and Harry were shoving each other good-naturedly, Ginny had her arm in Hermione's. Everyone was debating what was the highlight of the game, was it when Fred abandoned his stick and attempted to stand on his broom mid-air (falling painfully but safely)? Or had it been when Luna and Harry literally ran into each other? Everyone but Ron decided that the actual best part of the whole game was Ron's attempts to imitate what he'd seen the Chasers do at the World Cup, his face far too serious for anyone to believe he was joking. Luna was covered in dirt. She had decided she really liked Quidditch.

When they arrived at the Burrow everyone was looking fairly untidy. "And just before dinner!" Mrs Weasley chided them. "Go and wash up now, behave."

They stood in an orderly line coming out of the tiny bathroom on the first floor, discussing the game and coming down off their adrenaline high. "You _are_ remarkable, Ginny," Fred said with minor surprise. "How did you get so good? It took me ages to learn that pirouette turn you did with the last play."

Hermione snorted. "She's been taking your brooms out of the cupboard and riding them when you weren't watching since she was six."

Ginny's face grew red amid the laughter from everyone else. "Hermione! You said you wouldn't tell!"

Harry was laughing the hardest. He clapped Ginny on the back and doubled over with laughter. She crossed her arms and frowned. "Oh, Merlin, that's too good," he gasped, and stood to go to dinner. She followed him, as did Ron and Hermione, til Fred and George and Ginny were the only ones that hadn't washed up.

"You're quite good too, you know," said Fred. He and George looked at Luna.

"Thank you," she said quietly, washing her hands.

"No, really. I can't believe you've never played before!" George said, and went pink. Luna laughed and walked past him into the kitchen. Fred had his eyes trained on George, narrowed.


	6. The Supermen

**The Supermen**

George chuckled nervously, meeting his eyes, and went to wash his hands. "Oh, we're out of soap. I'll go get more." Fred didn't stop looking at him. In fact, as George left the bathroom, called, "Out of soap!" to the kitchen, and began to trek up the stairs he was followed by Fred.

When he opened the supply closet, Fred pushed him in and shut the door behind them. He pulled the light switch and stared at George, examining him. He studied his eyes and his face. Finally, he shouted, "You _like_ her!" and broke into a grin.

George blushed. "You're _blushing!_" Fred shouted even louder.

"Oh, thank you Fred, I don't think they heard you three doors down," George hissed.

Fred whooped and giggled. "Shut up, you git. No one can hear us." He grabbed George by the shoulders, talking a mile a minute. "I can't believe it! That is so random! Is this your first crush?"

George pushed him away. "It's not random! She's just nice is all—she needs a friend."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's all you want, is friendship. And I just mean, she falls out of the sky and you are all flibbetty gibbetty out of nowhere. I've never seen you like this." Fred grinned.

George scoffed. "Like what? Stop it, you're making me sound creepy!"

"She's not your sister, mate, you're allowed to like her," Fred said. "And I can see it now, you do. What's the matter with you?"

George looked him in the eyes and said nothing for a moment. "I can't explain it, Fred. She's just—she did fall out of the sky, didn't she? And then I saw her. And she looked like… She looked like… She looked like moonlight."

There was another pause as they studied each other. Then Fred hit him over the head, and grabbed his shoulders again. "Don't worry, little brother. Freddie will take care of this."

"Don't call me that." George avoided his gaze.

"Listen. Luna is fragile right now. Obviously. You can't go willy nilly… I mean, you can't exactly ask her on a date, you know. This is a delicate situation."

George opened the door. "Thank you, Fred. So bloody helpful."

Fred began to walk out. "I'm just saying. Grab the soap, Georgie boy."

"You're closer, you git," George said, picking the soap. "I'm just saying, I'm not some horny teenage boy."

Fred wheeled around to look at George. He raised his eyebrows. George sighed. "Alright, maybe I am. But I know enough to know that I shouldn't hit on a girl a) that has just been adopted by my family; b) whose father just died. I do not lack every sense of decorum."

With every step they got a bit quieter, and finally, at the bottom of the stairs Fred whispered, "But that's what we do, Georgie. That's who we are." He grinned an enigmatic, manic little grin and stepped dramatically into the kitchen.

"Hello, all! Were we missed?" Fred was promptly smacked on the head by Mrs Weasley with a wooden spoon. "Ouch! Why does everybody _do_ that?"

"Sit down and eat your dinner with everybody else, you ungrateful boys," she said. "They're all half-done!"

Fred laughed. "Mum, sit down and eat." He knew Mrs Weasley didn't like to begin eating until everybody else had.

"Go on," said George, setting the bars of soap on the counter. "I'll get you a plate."

"Not with those dirty hands, you won't. Spent all that time getting the soap, and you forgot to actually use it!" Molly smiled, though. She cupped his cheek. "But thank you for the offer. You're such a sweet boy. Go wash up now, there's a good pair."

They left together to get washed and Molly did sit down with the rest of the kids. She glanced at her clock. "My poor boys, all at work til the dead of night. Their dinner will be ruined…" She appeared to forget that the children were there at all. She soon snapped from her reverie. "But at least I have Bill here with me, and Charlie. They'll all be back soon, won't they? Yes, of course they will." She straightened up and smiled at the table of children feeling guilty for having so much fun when there was so much trouble in the world. Just then it began to rain, and no one noticed.


	7. I Was Born

**I Was Born**

The next day Luna awoke with everybody else around 8 in the morning to cracks of thunder and lightning. Ginny was pulling her waist-length hair into pigtails as Hermione stepped into a peanut butter sandwich left around by Ginny. "Ugh, what a god-awful mess, Ginny! How am I supposed to live here? Honestly, it's a bloody disgrace. If you leave anymore food on the floor I swear I am going to have to kill you."

Ginny was staring at her wrists. "Do you think my wrists are too scrawny? They make me look like a scarecrow."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny," Hermione said, coming to Ginny's side. "You're lovely."

Luna glanced at Ginny's wrists. "Quite thin, yeah."

Hermione glared at Luna. "Luna, that is so rude. Honestly, someone asks if they look like a scarecrow, you don't agree with them."

Luna had been quiet since the Quidditch game, since the rush of adrenaline and the crash—and she'd had another nightmare featuring her father's hanging body. She frowned at Hermione. "Don't put words in my mouth, Hermione. I didn't say anyone looked like a scarecrow, and I wouldn't at that. Do you think I want dribing griddlies in my ear? No, thank you. And on top of that it's unethical." She frowned and stormed out of the room with her toothbrush in hand.

"_What_ was that?" Hermione asked. "Did you hear her call you skinny? I heard it. Have I gone mad?" Ginny rolled her eyes. "And whose side are you on?"

Ginny did not like Hermione's tone. "Excuse me, whose room is this? This is my room. I can draw lines in the sand and erase them too. There are no sides, Hermione. Don't be an idiot. If you're staying in here, you work whatever out with Luna." Ginny's voice had taken on the edge heard in Molly Weasley's voice whenever the twins set something off.

"Well, maybe I won't stay in here," Hermione sniffed.

Snorting, Ginny asked, "What? Are you going to sleep in Ron's room?" Hermione blushed.

"Don't be ridiculous."

"Then the couch? That'd be agony. It hurts to sit on the damn thing, it's so lumpy." Hermione crossed her arms, and Ginny knew what was coming as Hermione laid down in her cot defeatedly.

Hermione was not childish very often, but when she was it was with Ginny. "Why does she get a real bed and all I get's a camp bed? I've been staying here ages."

Ginny hid her smile. "Hermione, you do have a real bed, at your house. And then you have a lovely set of parents. Luna needs this. Luna needs us." Ginny loved moments like these, when she could pretend for once that it was her that was Hermione's best friend. And that Hermione could be hers. "Besides, there's only a week of holiday left."

But no, Hermione really belonged to her brother, and to Harry. In fact, if Hermione didn't stare consistently at Ron, and if she didn't hate Luna on the mere principle that Ron seemed to find her funny, then Ginny probably would've hated her. But she didn't. She wanted to have a best friend more than anything.

They went downstairs together to find everyone eating eggs. Ginny and Hermione settled in to eat their breakfast, and just as they'd all finished, Harry coughed. "I'm going to go pack, Ron," he said.

Ron stood. "Yup, it's about time we did that. Coming, Hermione?" They all muttered affirmatively and walked upstairs.

Everyone watched them leave, and then continued picking at the sparse remnants—all except Luna. "Maybe I'll get seconds," George mused quietly.

"Er, what was that?" Luna addressed the table. They laughed together.

Ginny shrugged. "They always do that." Fred rolled his eyes.

"Always planning something. Always got something weird going on," he said, and he sounded oddly amused. "Think about it. Me and George, our first year, nothing happened. It was business as usual. We actually had to liven things up, didn't we? Second year, nothing happens."

He laid out the facts like a detective, and ridiculously campy. He had everyone's attention, and he loved that. "And then! Third year. Our little brother starts school, meets Harry Potter, and, oh yeah, something mysterious happens beneath the school. Something that results in a broken leg for Ron, a week's recovery in the Hospital Wing for Harry, and we won the House Cup? Er… What? Is it just me?

"And then there's their second year. What happens? You-Know-Who—" George coughed loudly. Fred broke off and glanced at Ginny, who had her eyes trained on him. "Well, we know what happened. Children dropped like fucking flies. And who came sailing to the rescue? Harry bloody Potter and his two best friends."

"Nothing weird happened last year," Ginny said fairly.

George laughed. "Except someone was literally on a suicide mission to assassinate Harry. And does anybody know where Ron got Pigwidgeon?"

Ginny interjected, "Don't talk about Pig, he's my baby."

"I'm just saying," Fred said finally. "Ever since they got together they cause nothing but mayhem. Remember when Ron was bit by the giant animal last year, after hours, no repercussions. Is no one concerned here?"

Ginny muttered to her toast, "He gets hurt rather a lot."

"Ron? He does at that. I'm actually sort of proud of him. I thought we had another prefect on our hands, but it looks like we're safe of that."

"Hey now," Ginny laughed. "There's a bit of hope for me yet."

Fred smiled fondly at her. "I agree, which is why you're off the prefects list. You may demure all you like but I know you're a mad genius. It takes one to know one."

"You flatter yourself," Ginny deadpanned as he rustled her long hair.

Just then Mrs Weasley bustled in. "Good morning!" she said. "Luna, dear. I went and bought everyone elses' Hogwarts things while they were at the World Cup, but that was… Well, that was before. It seems we're going to have to make a special trip to Diagon Alley. Doesn't that sound fun?"

"I suppose," Luna said, smiling at Mrs Weasley.

"You boys can stay here," Mrs Weasley continued. "And if you need anything Bill and Charlie are asleep upstairs, still."

"We can't go?" George asked suddenly.

Mrs Weasley looked surprised. "Well… I suppose you can, if you like."

"Well if you're going I want to go," Ginny said.

Fred kicked her under the table. "Ginny! I wanted to show you something."

"What?" she asked.

"Something cool!" he hissed. "But if you don't want to see it—"

"Well, alright, I didn't say that!" Ginny shouted. "Let's go then."

Mrs Weasley had been following this exchange half-heartedly, compiling a list of school supplies in her head. "I'm sorry, so you boys aren't going?"

"I think I'm going and Fred's staying, Mum." She was quiet. Everyone was quiet. Even those that knew about the ulterior motive didn't like the sound of that sentence.

"Oh," Molly said. "Yes, of course. So George, Luna, let's apparate, since there's so few of us."

So they all stood together, Molly held out her hand to George, who held his hand out to Luna, tentatively. She grinned widely and took it, solidly and steadily in hers.

And then they were elsewhere.

Ginny and Fred were left staring at their empty air. "What was all that about? I'll have a bruise, you know," Ginny complained.

Fred knocked her with his elbow. "You're no stranger to bruises, little sister. I think you'll manage." She didn't take her eyes from him and finally he said, "Alright, alright. You've got me. With your scary eyes… George just wants to spend time with Luna. It's not a big deal, we've talked about it—"

"What?" Ginny shouted. "No. _ No._ That is literally the only thing I can say about that. NO. She is screwed up enough as it is without George mucking things up for her. I don't think so." She pursed her lips and sat. "I don't like this."

Fred frowned. "You don't trust him, then?"

"It's not that I don't trust him. It's not that I don't trust them. It's just that she's vulnerable, and I feel like she's my responsibility." Fred sat beside her.

"I'm pretty sure he feels like that, too. He likes her… Well, if I'm honest, an alarming amount, considering they met yesterday. But just let them spend a bit of time together. She needs a laugh. And who better to help her than our Georgie?"

"You don't get it, do you?" Ginny shouted. "She is my age, you idiot! She has lost all the family she has in the world!" Ginny was pacing now.

"C'mon, Ginny. They're just gonna laugh and have fun, Mum'll be there the whole time."

"Imagine if _Lee_ dated _me._"

The disgust on his face was visible. "What, are you into Lee?" He was shouting now, just as angry as her.

Ginny's voice was shrill as she said, "That's not the point!"

"Well what is?" Fred stood a head taller than her, and wider, but Ginny wasn't to be deterred. Everyone was taller than her, and she could hold her own. But just the sight of him, clueless and stupid, convinced he knew better than stupid little Ginny, like everyone else in the whole fucking house. Because she was no one.

"It's inappropriate!" Fred looked unimpressed, and Ginny could feel ugly things sprouting in her mouth, ready to tumble out as soon as it opens. "He's a pervert! He wants to shag his _adopted sister!_" There was silence. Ginny was suddenly ashamed at herself. This was Fred's twin, her brother. She was glad no one else had heard.

Fred sighed and knit his eyebrows. "I see your point."

Ginny's face softened, and she sat again, trying to relax her posture. She'd unknowingly crept into defense mode. "You need to talk to him."

Fred pulled his glance from the clock to look contemptuously at her. "I know, Ginny. Just… fuck off," he said, and stormed out. Ginny's face screwed up in barely-contained anger.

Ginny shouted after him, _"This isn't my fault!"_

Fred thought about the night she volunteered to get into this mess.


	8. My Moon, My Girl

**My Moon, My Girl**

They appeared in Diagon Alley, and Molly immediately set off strolling briskly, leaving Luna and George standing there, holding hands. Luna unentangled herself calmly, and went to follow Mrs Weasley. She turned to grin at him when she got a few paces away, and he smiled back. His heart hammering, he followed at a run. Soon they were all three walking in a line. Their first stop was Flourish and Blotts.

"There're your books over there," Mrs Weasley said. She pointed towards a corner. "That's your section. If you two don't mind I'll just nip over here. Come get me when you're done." She smiled at them both, nodded, and went to the Bestsellers section.

George laughed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I love my mum," he told Luna.

"I think I love your mum too," Luna said quietly. George looked in her eyes, bending down to see her clearly.

_She could be yours,_ George thought. _She could be as much yours as she is mine. _But he just grinned at her, because the thought, even unvoiced, made him glad.

"Shall we go?" he asked, and headed toward the textbook section. She followed him like she'd follow the Pied Piper. They quickly picked up their books and returned to Mrs Weasley. George tapped her on the shoulder and she jumped.

"Oh, hello, dear," she said, and he saw that she was deeply engrossed in a book. She saw that they had Luna's textbooks and her face fell. "Are you all ready to go?"

"Mum, it's just us. What're you reading?" George asked.

Mrs Weasley laughed. "The most charming book. It's a Wallis Newtgut novel, he does all those romances with the twist endings. They're all so interesting."

Luna coughed. "If you'd like, Mrs Weasley, I'll finish with my shopping and you can just keep reading."

"Oh, Luna, I couldn't!" Mrs Weasley scoffed. "You're just children, and after what happened at the World Cup, I don't think so."

George said, "Mum! I am sixteen years old. And besides, it's just the two of us. I mean, who's going to want to bother us? Nobody knows who we are."

"Well, I suppose that's true." Mrs Weasley glanced down at her book. She didn't know what to do. Part of her wanted desperately to just buy the book and go, but there wasn't money in the budget for little extravagances. They'd be okay, she thought, just for an hour or two while she looked at the book? After all, it wasn't as if Harry was here to draw attention to them. It was just two inconspicuous teenagers. She remembered being that age, in more dangerous times.

"Oh, alright," she said, smiling. "You have your list? Here, leave the books with me, so you don't have to carry them—" She gave them exactly what she knew it would cost and settled down to read the book.

They glanced at each other and said goodbye to Mrs Weasley. Then George followed Luna out of the shop. For a second they just stood there. They felt free, as if everything holding them back had been broken, but in reality they still had to be back in an hour.

"Were should we go first?" George asked, smiling.

Luna grinned back, then glanced around her. "Over here!" she shouted, and skipped off, her hair trailing through the air behind her like it was held aloft by sunlight. George followed and thought about how he couldn't seem to stop doing that.

The trio didn't return until late, because Luna and George got lost. They had panicked a little, but not nearly so much as Mrs Weasley or Ginny, who'd seen George's clock hand turn to "lost" and tick a bit closer to "mortal peril" once or twice.

Once Mrs Weasley had found them, she'd scolded George, sworn she'd never let anybody out of her sight again, and apparated them both home quicker than you could say "Quidditch." There they ate a cold dinner Ginny had prepared with Hermione and Bill hours before and shared the story of their escapades to laughter from everyone.

As they were all sent to bed, Ginny shot Fred a warning glance and grabbed the arms of Luna and Hermione and pulled them forcefully to bed—but not before George could ruffle Luna's hair fondly, and Hermione could throw Ron a faintly longing glance as he wished her goodnight with a sigh. Throwing a quick glance at Harry, who had been too absorbed in his Quidditch book to wish anyone a goodnight, Ginny huffed a breath with the effort of dragging the two girls away from their boys. She reminded herself of her mother and she did not like it a jot.

Fred and George were sent to bed too, and dressed in quiet. There was a change in the air, their every interaction had an edge to it. George wondered what was different. Fred dreaded discussing it.

But he couldn't avoid it forever. "How did it go?" Fred finally asked, late that night. He whispered into the dark, where it felt safest for them both.

"Fine," George breathed. His chest was thundering with heart beats. He had no idea what was about to come but he did know that it would change things. In this moment his thoughts were Fred's thoughts and vice versa. They were both scared out of their wits.

Fred sighed. Then he sat up in bed, turned on the light. "Alright," he began, with the air of someone about to shovel dragon dung. "Let's get straight to it, then."

George sighed too and said, "Look, it's none of your business, Fred," and turned on his other side, away from his brother. Even as he did so he knew he couldn't avoid Fred.

Fred scoffed. "None of my—Look here, Georgie. This is your big brother talking and you need to listen to what I have to say!" When no reaction came from George, Fred stood, and kicked him soundly on the arse. He tumbled out of bed with a thump.

George stayed in a heap on the ground where Fred couldn't see him, and then Fred heard a muffled, "You stupid git." He sat up and looked Fred in the eye with a cautious acceptance. "What do you want?"

Fred stood up straight and breathed deep. He closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. "You're having feelings," he finally said with a grimace. George returned it.

There was something about that wording he did not like. "Shut up! No, I'm not!" he said, standing. "Ugh."

Fred laughed. This was getting easier by the second. "The first step is acceptance, little brother."

George muttered, "Don't call me that," and the routine was comforting.

Fred scooted around George's bed and pushed him onto it. "Focus up, Georgie. If we're to help you, I need to know exactly what you're feeling."

He looked at his feet, avoiding Fred's gaze. He had no idea how he'd explain it to him. "Well… I feel this… need. It's like… I want to be there for her. I want to protect her."

"Aha!" Fred stood straight. George frowned. He wasn't done. There was so much more to tell—Luna's smile spreading across her face and the matching glow spreading through his body, the flow of her hair catching his eye like being bewitched, staring into her eyes like daydreaming, but Fred ignored him. He needed a simple answer. "This is easy," he said, in response to George's _feelings._

George was almost certain he was incorrect. "_How?_" Fred often arrived at the exact same conclusion George did, about most situations, about thirty seconds later. What had he figured out that George hadn't?

"You don't like her!" Fred said. This soothed him, suddenly. If Fred could rationalize his feelings for him, then—

"I don't?"

"No," Fred said comfortingly, and sat down beside George. "She's a kid. She's going through a tough time. You want to take care of her. It's just pity! You heard how she gets picked on and bullied, and you want to help. That's fine, that's all well and good. I'll help! We can be the Luna police! It'll be great. She'll be like a new little pet."

That made enough sense that George could smile again, but not enough sense to kill the last alarm bell ringing in his head. "So she's your shiny new toy. Fred, you're an ass." George looked at his brother with fond disgust.

Fred grinned winningly at his twin. "But you love me," he said. "Everyone does. So, it's decided. You don't like Luna, and everything's going to be okay. Got it?" George nodded, but Fred hadn't waited for a reply. He'd turned out the lights, bounded into bed and turned away from George.

He probably fell right to sleep, but George laid in bed for another hour. He contemplated the light of the moon spilling into his room, reaching for him, touching his blankets and legs and he couldn't get rid of a stupid, naggy feeling that the simple part of life was over. _At least I still have Fred,_ he thought.

_**A/N: You should probably review this, if you've gotten this far.**_


	9. Wild World

**Wild World**

"Luna, dear, would you go out to the shed and tell Arthur that dinner's ready?"

The one night Mr Weasley got home before dinner was done and he'd locked himself up in his shed, tinkering with his Muggle odds and ends. Luna was fascinated… She'd played with different Muggle things in her mother's laboratory as a child. Her mother had believed, like Arthur Weasley, that wizards could learn from Muggle technology.

Luna knocked on the door of the shed. There was no answer. Fear gripped her round the throat and she choked with it. She closed her eyes but it was no solace—she merely saw her father again. Her eyes shot open. "Mr Weasley?" Her voice shook.

"M-Mr Weasley?" She opened the door with a bang. "Mr Weasley!"

He jumped up. Mr Weasley had had his head down, resting on a small Muggle camera.

"Wh-What?" He looked at Luna and focused his eyes. "Luna? Are you okay?"

Luna shook with a little sob and closed her eyes again. Again, it did nothing to help. She sunk to the floor.

Mr Weasley stood and walked to her. He pulled her to her feet and sat her on a stool at his worktable. He patted her gently on the back and let her cry. His silence freed her. She felt weight lifted off her shoulder, and she had no idea from what.

Looking around the magically enlarged shed, filled to the ceiling with mismatched bobbles and things, she found herself interested. Her eyes fell on the camera. "What's this?"

"Just a camera," Mr Weasley replied easily. His eyes had circles underneath them and Luna wondered when he'd last slept a full night.

"Yes—Where's the film?" Luna asked, opening a clasp at the back.

Mr Weasley knitted his eyebrows. "Film? What's film?" His eyes widened and he had the look of a much younger man as he addressed Luna. "Do you know about Muggle things?"

Luna shrugged and blushed gently. "I know a bit. My dad brings home Muggle magazines to compare layouts and I always liked reading them. Film is what makes the Muggles' cameras work. Without them there's no picture." She recalled the story she'd read about a person that took a trip somewhere they'd never see again and took loads of pictures, only to return home and find they'd forgotten film—and had no keepsake. That story was meant to be funny, but it made Luna cry.

He steepled his fingers. "Do you mean fillum?" he asked.

"I don't think so. Film looks like a little canister, with little knobbles, here and here," she said, demonstrating with her hands.

His eyes lit up. "You mean these!" he shouted, pulling a tub from beneath his feet. Inside there were hundreds of little tubes that Luna recognized from the pictures accompanying the article—she smiled.

Together they opened canister after canister, trying to maneuver the film into the back of the camera. Finally it fit, and they looked at it for a moment. Then they shared a look. "What do we do with it now?" Luna asked.

"We press this little button," Arthur replied, and he did so.

There was a flash as the camera captured a picture. "I have to show Molly!" Arthur exclaimed, smiling broadly and running out the door to the house. Luna stood and followed gleefully, wiping her eyes. She had no idea when she'd stopped crying.

That night everyone had a turn with the camera. Picture after picture was taken, and more when the canisters wore out and had to be replaced. Even Mrs Weasley was amused, if not by camera then by the excitement it caused. She liked to think that she had a fairly intelligent family, but honestly, a little contraption that clicks and flashes comes along and they fall apart in giggles. Her children laughed and prodded each other and smiled for the camera.

"How do we see the pictures?" Arthur Weasley finally asked the room at large.

Hermione burst into giggles as Harry poked her in the side. "Oh, alright," she said, laughing. "You take it to a shop and they develop the film for you."

"Excellent!" he said. "I'll take it on my way to work tomorrow. I have so much fillum to give them!"

The next day he went and gave them his film—they'd used ten whole canisters, snapping pictures of the clock and the cat and the pot and Crookshanks chasing Pigwidgeon and Molly levitating Crookshanks and that not stopping Crookshanks at all.

Once all the children saw that the pictures didn't move, they quickly lost interest. All except Luna, who pored over them with Mr Weasley for an hour and a half, until they were all sent to bed.

"Mr Weasley, can I have this one?" It was a shot of them all, taken by Luna herself. It wasn't perfect. Bill's head was completely cut off. Hermione had her head buried in Ginny's shoulder, and Ginny had forgotten to laugh. Fred and George were sharing a private joke. Ron was pushing Harry over, and Harry was nothing more than a blur. Arthur stood proudly beside Percy, both smiling for the camera. Molly had collapsed into her rocking chair, and Charlie was hanging over the side of it, teasing his mother.

"Of course, Luna!" he said with enthusiasm. "I have dozens more; they're so fascinating." Arthur packed them all away into his shed, for future research, and Luna packed hers carefully into a pocket in her bag. _This is going right beside the one of me and Dad,_she thought, and that thought sent her smiling into sleep. For the first night since arriving at the Weasley's, she slept soundly.


	10. Written On the Forehead

**Written on the Forehead**

The morning that the children were due on the Hogwarts express, it was raining the hardest it had in weeks and Luna woke late. She'd been with the Weasleys for just over three weeks, and it was a bad habit she'd developed. She could see herself having trouble in the coming weeks, missing classes-then she decided not to think about it.

Climbing out of the bed that got more comfortable every night, she stretched her arms as wide as they'd go, and felt the muscles tighten refreshingly. Thinking about falling into her bed again and melting comfortably into her warm sheets, she glanced guiltily at Ginny's remade bed and Hermione's cot folded up neatly. Then she started.

She looked quickly at her trunk, which had been Molly's in her school days, and in which only half of Luna's things were piled. She plucked a pair of jeans out of the mess and pulled it on as she rushed out the door. Reaching the bottom of the stairs she ran directly into Mrs Weasley.

"There you are!" Mrs Weasley said, lips pursed and hands on hips. Luna's eyes flew even wider than usual, staring up at her foster mother with complete innocence and Mrs Weasley could feel her face softening. "Upstairs you go! Get your trunk!"

Luna shot a look at the kitchen door behind Mrs Weasley. "Mad-Eye?" she could hear George saying. "Isn't he that nutter-"

"Upstairs!" Mrs Weasley insisted in a shriller voice. "I know you're not finished packing. Bring your trunk down to the hallway and then you cana eat."

Luna's stomach growled. "Yes, m'am," she replied gloomily, turning on her heel and walking up the stairs. Mrs Weasley smiled. She'd begun to think of Luna as the most well-behaved of all the children she considered her own.

By the time Luna had tipped her trunk at the top stair and watched it fall to the bottom of the stairs, the house was empty but for a man in the middle of the entryway. He turned back and saw Luna. He groaned. "Paul!" he shouted out the open door. "We have another!" then he grumbled to himself, "Kids coming out of the fucking walls- PAUL!"

Mrs Weasley flew out of the kitchen and accosted Luna, cramming a piece of buttered toast into her hand and pulling her out the door. "Time to go, dear, time to go."

Luna let herself be pulled by the hand and gulped down the toast with little to no chewing. Her stomach grumbled uncomfortably as she did, but she was soon distracted by a thump on the head. The threshold of the car was short, and Luna knitted her eyebrows. "What's going on?" she asked, finding herself sitting beside Fred, who ruffled her hair.

"We're off to King's Cross," Mrs Weasley said, grinning like a madwoman. She finally had all the children packed in the taxis and fed. Soon they'd be gone for a whole semester... She felt her grin fade quickly. Overcome with the same emotion she'd felt every parting since Bill's first year-not quite yearning, not quite loneliness, not quite sadness-she put her arm around the closest child, Luna,.

Luna couldn't remember her last hug. Her father was more likely to pat her on the head. She was interested by how cushiony Mrs Weasley was. And warm. She breathed deep, and she could smell gingerbread. Luna felt herself leaning into the embrace, imperceptibly at first, then gently. Mrs Weasley pulled her in closer, amid the chatter from Fred, George and Charlie. Luna felt a strangely familiar pressure on the top of her head, and realized that Mrs Weasley had kissed her.

She stiffened. Her mind raced and she breathed in. Instead of the warm scent of gingerbread she smelled hair on fire: she smelled her own mother. She felt her own mother pressing a kiss into her hair, and she felt a sickening lurch in her chest. She had the inescapable feeling that she was betraying her mother.

The rest of the ride was easy. Still leaning into Mrs Weasley, she fell asleep. Mrs Weasley, for her part, felt like she was making up for the years she hadn't been in Luna's life. Already she felt a bond, she felt that this child was hers, much as she felt with Harry. Harry, however, was Harry Potter, which was an irrefutable and frustrating fact. As much as Mrs Weasley longed to keep him with her always, and wished that he was just an orphan friend of Ron's, well. He had a destiny. He was famous, untouchable, detached, different. Maybe it had been the years of neglect at the hands of his aunt and uncle, maybe it was the romanticization of his martyr parents, but Molly believed that there was nothing she could do to make him feel like he had a mother.

Luna she could take care of. She could love her, and Luna would let her love her. She could feel that Luna needed it.

"Come, love, time to get up," Mrs Weasley said, nudging her as they arrived.

"Oi," Fred barked in the tiny car, "How come we don't get that treatment?" George thumped him soundly on the back and Fred yelped.

"Come on, my little trouble-makers, time to go away,"Mrs Weasley said, climbing out of the car. Soon they found themselves rain-soaked in Platform 9 3/4, wheeling their trunks into the train.

"Here's a compartment!" Harry shouted, and Hermione and Ron followed him.

"Ginny!" a third-year shrieked. "How was your summer?" Ginny laughed and took her trunk in that direction, leaving Luna alone. She opened the door to the first empty compartment she saw, and shut the door to the noise outside, settling into another lonely ride. She smiled mutely out the window, and then had a thought. She stood and looked out, seeing all the Weasleys gathered outside, hugging and saying their goodbyes. They laughed at a shared joke. The sight of their merriment made her glad and she smiled too. In that way, she imagined, they were laughing together.

She settled again into her seat.


	11. Acts of Man

**Acts of Man**

"Where's Luna?" Mrs Weasley suddenly said. "You need to watch out for her, Fred, George, Ron!"

"It's them that need looking after,"Hermione said, grinning, her big front teeth in full display. "And it's me and Ginny that'll do the looking-after, you mark my words."

Mrs Weasley smiled, then her brow furrowed in concern. "Do take care of Luna," she said sternly. "I love you all! Tell her as well."

They waved goodbye and got back on the train. By the time they'd gotten into the corridor of their car, the train had begun to move. "Where is Luna?" Fred asked, as he realized that he didn't have a clue. He turned about face and knocked on a door. It opened to the face of his friend, Lee Jordan.

"There you are, mate! C'mon, have a seat-"

"Sorry, Lee! I'll be back in a minute," Fred said, and shut the door in his friend's face. From inside they could hear raucous laughter.

George thumped Fred soundly on the shoulder. "How did you forget that was our compartment?" he shouted.

"I AM AN IDIOT," Fred replied loudly and simply. They stood looking at one another for a minute, before George got smacked over the head.

"Both of you hush!" Ginny shouted. They fell silent, rubbing their head and shoulder, respectively. "Idiots," she muttered.

The group went down the corridor, looking through the open windows for Luna. When the came across a window with curtains drawn, Fred thumped on the door without hesitation and waited for an answer. None was happy when it came.

"Well look who it is. Potter and his ragtag gang of gingers. And let's not forget that bushy-haired-"

"Shut up you little shit," Fred said, smirking, and pushed his palm against Malfoy's forehead.

"How dare you?" Malfoy shouted. "My father will hear about this, and he will not be happy!"

Harry laughed. "Can't you tell we're scared out of our minds, Malfoy? Please, no, not that idiot father of yours! What if he slaps us with his hair?"

George smiled. "And on that note," and shut the compartment door in Malfoy's bright red face.

Hermione looked disapproving. "You really shouldn't tease him," she said.

"How can you say that?" Ron thundered. "After all he's done to us, said about us, all the trouble-"

"Well you don't have to snog him," a tranquil voice interrupted him. "Hermione's right, his father is scary. I saw him once in Diagon Alley, and my father said he was one of the men that squelched the Great Goblin Rebellion of 1974."

They turned to look behind them and there she was, her eyes tired and dreamy. "Luna!" Fred said. "We were looking for you."

"You woke me up," she said, and a wide, lopsided smile spread her cheeks.

Everyone else was silent as Fred went to her and ruffled her hair. George's face was red and he smiled too. Ron blushed fiercely, looking to Hermione, who glanced at him and away. She ran her tongue over her teeth in a nervous habit. Ron's blush deepened.

"Where're your things?" Fred asked her.

She pointed three doors down and shrugged. "In there," she replied.

Fred walked in, expecting to carry her things into Ginny's compartment and have that be that. The others watched him go and Luna watched them. Then they heard the sound of Fred's voice. "What the bloody hell!"

Her eyes widened. "What is it?"she cried, and ran into her compartment.

"This!" he said, and gestured to the mess she'd made. He was incredulous. "You've been here a full five minutes, Luna!"

"I was bored!" she replied, louder than normal. Everyone was jostling around the doorway trying to get a look-she'd scattered the contents of her trunk throughout the compartment, it seemed. There were petrified vegetables in a corner, an incredible amount of jewelry in a chair, thirty editions of the Quibbler fanned out across a bench, and books, everywhere.

Her trunk was on its side as far into the corner as it would go in the cramped compartment. "Where are your clothes?" Ginny shrieked.

Luna sat on the only clear spot and patted the knapsack beside her."In here," she said smiling.

"What the hell!" Ron exclaimed, grinning. "Why?"

"I couldn't decide what to do for the next few hours," she said. "Then I wanted to make myself feel at home, so I pulled everything out, just to make it cosy."

"That's mad," Fred said, and turned to his twin. George was grinning in a slightly crazed way. George glanced at him so gleefully, and Fred could imagine his twin's thoughts as he bit his upper lip. Can you believe we get to keep her? Fred frowned.

"I've been wanting this book!" Hermione exclaimed, and everyone realized she'd been crawling on the floor among the stacks of books. She'd picked up a biography of the creator of the Floo Network.

Luna wrinkled her button nose. "You can have it; it's dreadful," she said. Then she muttered, "Not so much as a mention of the Jibbles that produce the Floo powder," under her breath. "Some great lie about "

Hermione looked up, her eyes gleaming. "Can I really? I shouldn't, I haven't so much as cracked open our Potions textbook." She studied the book longingly, gingerly tracing the cover illustration.

"Oh, go on then. You know you want to, Hermione," Ron said gently, without looking at her. He had settled down on a seat beside the jewelry, stacking the Quibblers neatly and out of the way. Hermione glanced at him, and glanced back down at the book.

"Well. Alright, then," she said quietly.

Harry was exploring the pile of petrified vegetables. "What exactly are these, Luna?"

"I'm not sure. The green one will protect you from harm, though. I remember that much..." A placid smile was plastered on her mouth but her forehead creased with worry. She could hear her father in her ear, getting quieter and quieter. It'd happened with her mother, too. Now she couldn't even remember the sound of her voice. Just that dreadful singed smell.

"Hey," George said quietly, sidling up to her. "Look at this!" He'd opened up a book to find the picture of their family.

"That is a very good picture," Fred said, grinning. He'd immediately followed George's move, but found himself genuinely interested in the photograph. He took it in his hands and studied it. "It's like they're moving even though they aren't." He narrowed his eyes and looked at it until Luna took it from his hands.

She held it lightly in her palms, looking down at it fondly. "It's not they, it's us. That's what's good about Muggle photos. It's not a charm making little people move around, it's us, what was us, trapped forever on a little piece of paper. And you can hold it, keep it forever, and remember what was. You never have to forget. It never has to change, you see." She had spoken quietly. Ginny and Ron were mulling over her jewelry, oohing and ahhing as appropriate. Hermione was engrossed in her book. Harry and the twins were the only people that had heard Luna.

Harry found himself thinking of his picture, the one of his mum and dad. The one he treasured so very much. He wondered whether it meant what he thought it meant at all. He wondered if that was them as they had been.

George frowned at Luna, and felt anger flaring up inside him, followed by an immense wave of failure. Why couldn't he protect her? Fred glanced between the two of them, and settled between them both, putting his arm around each wordlessly. Somehow, they both knew what he meant.

"Oh," Fred said suddenly. "Mum said she loves you."


	12. Oh! You Pretty Things

**Oh! You Pretty Things**

As the train doors opened, there was a rumble of thunder overhead. Hermione took Crookshanks from Luna's lap and bundled him up in her cloak. It was raining dreadfully hard as they exited the train. Ice cold sheets of rain hammered them repeatedly over the head.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Luna heard Harry shouting. They began to separate, but Luna didn't mind. It had been more than she'd hoped for to extend her vacation into the realm of friendship for the train ride. She knew that from this point on she was alone.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione wandered over to Hagrid, Ginny's friends had found her, George was leaning against the train talking to one of his pretty Quidditch mates, and Luna did not feel a twinge in her stomach at the sight.

She headed alone to the carriages that would take them to the castle. Cautiously, she petted a Thestral, thinking she recognized it. Was it the Thestral she'd named Norman, after the mailman she'd met on a trip into town? Whether it was or wasn't, Luna called the Thestral Norman and scratched it behind the ears.

"What're you doing?" Harry's voice surprised her, but she didn't jump. She turned and smiled at the trio watching her.

"Oh, just petting the Thestrals," Luna said. "They're always very kind. No nipping."

Hermione frowned. "Luna, there's nothing there. Nothing pulls the carriages." Ron grinned.

"Can you see them, Luna?" Ron asked, genuinely interested.

"Of course I can," Luna said.

Harry's brow furrowed. "Why can you see them and not us?" he asked as they were ushered into the carriage by a watching teacher.

Luna smiled a small smile. "Well, it's actually spectacularly interesting," she said. "You see, the Thestral can only be seen by someone that has witnessed death." There was quiet as the carriage began moving and Luna seemed almost triumphant in the silence.

"Who've you seen die?" Ron asked, and watched Luna's face fall. Hermione elbowed him sharply in the ribs. Harry's face remained still. "Sorry!" Ron said angrily at Hermione. "It's just her dad doesn't count, does he? She found him dead, she didn't see him."

She looked at her shoes, then out the window. Night had just fallen and the moonlight illuminated her face prettily. Her brow furrowed, she looked at them. "Well, my mother died when I was nine. Yeah, she liked to experiment with spells and potions, and one day it went terribly wrong. I was playing in her lab, and I saw the explosion-" She stopped.

"You don't have to talk about it, Luna," Hermione said.

Luna met Hermione's eyes. "It's not... It happened so long ago. That explosion is the clearest memory I have of her. It's just that my dad saved me. The explosion started a fire and I was trying to get to her, and the smoke was choking me, and I felt his arms around me and he pulled me out. My dad saved me."

In the long silence that followed, no one was comfortable. Too many emotions were running through Luna-she didn't know what was happening anymore, there was too much tension in the tiny carriage. "Thestrals," she said, realizing she' d have to be the one to speak first. "Thestrals are one of my favorite magical creatures. Can you believe some people think the carriages just move by themselves? Obviously they're being pulled by invisible horses." Luna smiled a lopsided grin and kept her eyes on her feet.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "But that can't be true. I'd have read about it somewhere."

Luna rolled her eyes back. "You can't read about everything." Her voice took on an astral quality and she leaned toward Hermione, who leaned unconsciously away from Luna's intensity. "Hermione, they couldn't put everything about Hogwarts in a book if they tried; Hogwarts is the sort of place you need to explore to understand. You'll never see every inch of it, I bet. None of us will. It's its own kind of magic."

Hermione sniffed. Ron grinned, and Harry stared. They faced this girl and thought very different things. "Anyway," Luna said. "Ask Dumbledore. He can see them."

"How do you know that?" Harry spoke suddenly. He hadn't taken his eyes off of Luna.

She met his eyes. "He told me," she said simply.

Harry Potter was an orphan. Funnily enough, it was public knowledge. However, never having had a chance to know his parents, he couldn't help feeling disconnected from their memory. He'd never had a chance to feel anything other than lost. The closest he'd come to feeling protected was his cot in his cupboard, locked up safe and tight, maybe having had some food that day, where nobody would bother him. This girl, however, she was lost anew. Lost in a way he'd never been. Luna and he, they were a pair. Orphans. He found himself smiling at her as fondly as he smiled at anyone.

The group hurried through the oak front doors, dripping wet. "Blimey," Ron said, shaking the water out of his hair like a dog-to a violent harrumph from Hermione. "If this keeps up, the lake is going to overflow. I'm soaking!"

Suddenly he gasped, and even more water exploded onto everyone around him. "Ron-" Hermione began, looking up with a gasp from wringing out her robes. Drenched, he staggered confusedly into her, just as another water bomb fell onto Luna's head. She looked up and saw Peeves floating twenty feet above them, sporting a wide, malicious grin. The poltergeist shook with delight, and the bell on his hat jingled with his movement. Luna smiled at him and waved.

"Hello, Peeves!" she shouted up at him. "Have a pleasant summer?" He responded with a raspberry and launched more water bombs in her general vicinity. Around her, students clamored to get to safety. Ron was among them.

"Bloody hell, Luna, you're teasing him! Get out of his way!" Ron said, pulling her along with him.

"He's only playing," Luna said calmly, and grinned up at Peeves again. Peeves stuck out his tongue. He did _not_ like Luna. She never took him seriously.

Professor McGonagall's voice rang throughout the entryway. "Peeves!" she shouted. "Peeves, you come down at_ once!_" She came dashing out of the Great Hall, and looked quite daring for a moment as she skidded on the wet floor-until she lost her balance and collided into Hermione. Hermione thought to herself that she was quite ready for the portion of the night when she wasn't in danger of being body-slammed to begin.

"Ouch-sorry, Miss Granger-"

"It's alright, Professor!" Hermione gasped, and McGonagall returned to the task at hand.

"Peeves, down, now!" barked McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat and glaring at the malevolent ghost.

In response, he cackled with glee. "Not doing nothing!" he cried happily, lobbing a water bomb at a group of girls that dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeee!"

Trying for an escape, the four entered the Great Hall together and as Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged an awkward glance, Luna skipped away with a cheery, "Goodbye!"

Ron shrugged and Hermione frowned. Harry looked after her with mild concern. They each wished that she could've come to sit with them, but during the start-of-term feast it was understood that each house sat with their own.

It was warm in the Great Hall, and Luna enjoyed the feel of the stone floor radiating heat through the thin soles of her shoes. She sat at the end of her table, as far out of the way of anyone as she could, and began to fumble with the bag she kept slung round her neck at all times in school.

Over at the Gryffindor table, the three sat beside Nearly Headless Nick, who welcomed them warmly. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting," Harry muttered as a wave of hunger hit him and he poured his sneakers out onto the floor. "I'm starving."

Hermione kept eyes on Luna. "Do you think she'll be alright?"

Ron laughed rudely. "Hermione, she's survived three years of Hogwarts thus far without your help. I think she'll be fine."

A girl with a sour look on her face sidled up to Luna. "Hey there, Loony. Have a nice summer?" She spoke with a distinct threat in her voice, and it sent a shiver through Luna. It always did.

"Of course, Cecilia," she replied quietly, keeping her eyes on the comforting contents of her bag. "I had a wonderful summer. And yourself?" She kept the tremor out of her voice with great difficulty.

"I heard your summer wasn't so fabulous. Did you hear something like that, Lauren?" She turned her head as another girl slid onto the bench across from Luna.

"I did, Cecilia," Lauren said, smiling meanly. "I heard Loony's mad father shot a ministry official and got sent to Azkaban." Luna stiffened.

"Oh, that isn't right. I heard Loony's mad father came down with some disease and died." Luna inched away from the pair, keeping her eyes on her plate. She saw the hanging body in her mind's eye and for the first time felt shame.

"So what is it, Loony?" Cecilia murmured into Luna's ear. "What's happened to your father?" When Luna didn't answer she grinned and shrugged. "Whatever it was, I'm sure it was coming. You know, I don't know how you got into Ravenclaw house. You are truly a disgrace, don't you think, Lauren?"

Lauren shrugged as well, and said loudly. "I do, Cecilia. Loony over here gives us all a bad rap. We're meant to be the smart ones, clear-headed and all that, and Loony? Loony just doesn't fit. Loony can't tell what's right and wrong, like we can. I don't know, Loony, don't you ever think you were put into the wrong house?" The stood in tandem and walked away. Luna stood very calmly and exited the Great Hall to peals of the pair's shrill, annoying laughter. Gulping the air and sliding gently across the wet floor, she made her way to a bathroom.

She was very sad she would miss the Sorting Song. It was her favorite part of the feast.


	13. Rolling in the Deep

**Rolling in the Deep**

"I have words, but no mouth. I wear a jacket, but am never cold. Who am I?"

Luna replied without hesitation, "A book," and was granted entrance into her common room. Deciding to turn in, she skipped down the familiar stairs to her old familiar dormitory and fell into her old familiar four-poster. Everything seemed to similar.

How could it be that nothing was the same? She felt a deep burning ache in her stomach, but it wasn't the same feeling she had when thinking of her father. Luna found herself missing the Burrow and all its inhabitants. She closed her eyes and imagined Mrs Weasley's arms around her again, but the pain didn't ebb away, it flared up. Her head was clouded and confused as she opened her eyes to see a little house-elf staring at her.

"Hello," Luna said. Its big eyes flew open, its eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What's your name?" she whispered.

"Buttercup!" the little house-elf said in squeaking voice. The sound made Luna smile.

"I'm Luna. Did you bring my trunk up here?" Her lop-sided grin spread wide across her face as she studied the little creature. Buttercup nodded back at Luna, wringing its palms. "Did I interrupt your routine?" With great hesitation, Buttercup nodded again. "I'm sorry," Luna said simply, standing up. "I'll go somewhere else until you finish."

"No, no, Miss!" Buttercup squeaked. "You isn't to be in the halls! You'll get in trouble!"

Luna turned away from the doorway to Buttercup. "Do you think?" she asked, suddenly worried. She never really thought about getting in trouble. Often she considered how very easy it was to do as you pleased, and often she wondered why more people didn't do it. Never, however, did she worry about getting in trouble.

Buttercup nodded emphatically. "You isn't even supposed to be in here now!"

"I am very sorry, Buttercup..." Luna sank into a chair by the doorway.

"Isn't you hungry, Miss?" Buttercup said, and Luna considered the question. She thought of the toast she'd eaten on the car ride to King's Cross, and she felt her stomach grumble.

She winced. "I am, aren't I? I hadn't thought about it."

"You've missed the feast!" Buttercup said worriedly. "You'll have to come with me to the kitchens, and eat something there."

Luna had never seen the kitchens before and so the thought excited her. Soon she and Buttercup were traipsing decidedly to the kitchens, without fear of being caught. Looking around the empty corridors, now lit with torches and warm with the thrum of life, Luna finally felt as if she'd arrived at the Hogwarts she knew and loved.

She smiled. Buttercup led her through the castle, and they turned off of a narrow, spindly corridor to find themselves in a cavernous, mammoth corridor paved with warm speckled stone and with huge paintings of fruit, turkey, feasts, wine, cheese, pudding, and every kind of food Luna could think of.

"Oh, look at that pudding!" Luna muttered to herself.

"This way, mistress!" Buttercup squeaked up at Luna, who smiled down at her.

Shrugging, Luna grinned wider. They reached a painting of a bowl of fruit, and Buttercup reached up to tickle the pear nuzzling a banana. It shivered, and Luna could swear she heard a giggle as a latch released and the painting swung forward on its hinges. "Thank you, Pear," Luna said, and she heard another giggle.

The sight that greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen was amazing. The feast was taking place above her head, and the little house-elves were rushing to and fro trying to get the dinner together. They had concentrated looks and smiles on their faces, and Luna was overjoyed at the sight of so much food. She served herself some pudding and no one seemed to mind, so she snuggled up near the warm fire and ate to her heart's content.

"I don't see her _anywhere,_though, maybe we should just - _"_

"Hermione!" Ron snapped looking up from his pudding. "Look, she's right-" He turned his head and pointed at where Luna should've been, only to see that she wasn't. "...Oh."

Hermione made a face at him, muttering, "_Oh,_" in an ugly mocking voice.

Harry snorted his pumpkin juice. "Hermione, your face'll freeze like that," he coughed, wiping his face. She grinned wryly in response and looked angrily down at her food.

"Oh, have another bite, Hermione," Ron said convincingly. "Look, chocolate gateau!"

"Slave labor," Hermione muttered again. Ron's face fell.

Screwing up his face, he muttered, "Starve then," and took another bite, this time more vigorously.

"Hermione's right," Harry told Ron, who whipped his head toward Harry in disbelief. "About Luna!" he finished quickly. "She should be at the feast. Maybe something's wrong? We should find her."

"But we can't leave the feast!" Ron said indignantly.

"Of course _you_ wouldn't think so," Hermione said with a little smile. Ron reddened.

Harry shrugged, taking another bite of pudding. "After the feast, obviously. Dumbledore hasn't made his welcome speech yet. But we should find her, make sure she's okay." He nodded to himself, lost in thought. Hermione and Ron exchanged looks.

"You're _joking!_" Fred shouted into the complete silence of the Great Hall. George elbowed him in the side, as the whole of the Hall burst into laughter. Fred just giggled in response.

"I am not joking, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore addressed Fred from his perch at the head of the Hall. "Although, now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun that all walk into a bar-" McGonagall coughed pointedly and Dumbledore glanced in her direction as more laughter erupted in the hall. "Er - but maybe this is not that time? No..."

They were all rapt with attention as Dumbledore continued his explanation of the Triwizard Tournament. George and Fred followed his every word with eyes big as saucers, wild with excitement.

"I'm going for it!" Fred whispered to the Gryffindors down the table, but no one was paying him much attention. For once that didn't even bother him, and he turned back to the Headmaster. The air was buzzing as he continued and George looked at the faces of his friends. Angelina was gazing at Dumbledore, her eyes glazed with thoughts of glory. Lee smiled in anticipation of the fun, and probably the girls. Then he looked over at his favorite fourth-years, and saw Ron with the same shrewd look as Angelina and Fred, Hermione looking anxious and disapproving. And Boy Wonder - well Harry wasn't looking at Dumbledore at all. George followed his gaze to the Ravenclaw table. Harry was studying it, looking for something. George started to look too, unaware of what it was they were looking for. Then he noticed that Luna wasn't there. Luna was nowhere to be seen.

Dumbledore took his seat and turned to Mad-Eye Moody. The clamor of students eager to get to bed and excited at the prospect of the coming year with all of its planned novelty and grandiose filled the Great Hall. Harry, Ron and Hermione clustered together. Fred was blustering, standing and staring at Dumbledore. There was a pause as George went to the trio and Fred muttered, "But they can't do that."

Turning, he sought George's validation. "Can they, George?" George wasn't listening. Fred continued, subdued and whingeing, "We're seventeen in April, we should have a shot."

George turned to Fred and said, "We can't find Luna." He was purely confused.

"She probably went to bed," Fred said unconcernedly.

Hermione frowned. "Fred, she was here before the sorting, and disappeared. She left, or... Or something."

"Well what're we supposed to do about it?" Ron asked. "She'll turn up."

"She's probably hungry," Hermione said absently. Ginny appeared, walking down the bench to get to them through the crowd.

Her head popped up behind Hermione and her eyebrows knit in concern. "What's this about, then?"

McGonagall shouted at Ginny from across the Hall to kindly get off the furniture. "Yes, Professor!" Ginny called back. "Absolutely, I'm on it!" She hopped down and landed between Fred and Harry in their little huddle. "Now, what're you all on about? I thought I heard you say you can't find Luna."

Hermione explained the situation, Ron complained about the fact that she wasn't a baby, she could take care of herself. Harry explained that he thought it would be best to check up at least, Ron said something rude back and got thumped thoroughly round the head by Ginny. "You get so fussy after your evening meal, Ronnie," Fred laughed. "He's like a puppy, just wants to curl up and get to sleep."

Ron looked at his feet and frowned. "We don't even know where she is." Everyone looked at the ground, thinking, except Ginny.

"Are you _all_stupid or is it just him?" Ginny said after a pause. Ron elbowed her in the side and then he thought about what she said. They all exchanged looks, then smiles, thinking of the Marauder's Map.

They grinned and left, pushing through everyone else and _running_ toward the Tower, giggling and losing themselves in the exhilaration of a mission and a new school year.

Luna was shaken to waking by Buttercup. "Miss! Miss!"

She struggled to open her eyes. "Wuh?"

"Someone's come looking for you, Miss!" Buttercup said. Luna jolted awake, sitting up and looking about. There were her friends, George and Fred and Harry and Ron and Hermione and Ginny. They surrounded her, and she felt safe. Delivered from sleep and the world of dreams into the arms of those who loved her.

"Hello," she said cheerily.

George grinned at her and she smiled back. Ginny frowned. "We were worried," she said.

"I don't see why," Luna said.

Hermione shook her head. "You're not really supposed to leave the feast, you know," she said softly, taking her hand and helping her up.

"Well I couldn't help it," Luna said absently, dusting off her clothes. "They were saying terrible things about my father. I didn't want to be there."

"Wait, what?" Fred exclaimed. "Who was saying bad things about your dad?"

Luna looked up in surprise. "Oh, Cecilia and Lauren," she said dreamily. "Everyone acts strange around me, but they're the most terrible. They're the ones that made up Hide 'n Find."

"What's Hide 'n Find?" Hermione said in a blank voice, shocked past emotion. Ginny's eyes were narrowed and Ron was confused. Fred and George both had their fists clenched and Harry just looked sad.

"The people in my year," she said airily. "They take my things and hide them places they don't think I'll find. Then everyone else tries to find them, and if they do they get a point. If I find anything of mine, then the person that hid it loses. I think they have money on the whole thing, but I'm not really sure."

There was silence. "They used to do things like that to me all the time," Harry said.

Luna looked at him. "Things like what?" Everyone looked at Harry and he mumbled.

"You know. They used to chase me around, chuck rocks at me. They stole my clothes when we changed for gym. They broke my glasses, pushed me around."

Luna studied his face, and smiled. "Well that isn't your fault, Harry," she said. "You're such a lovely person. Aren't you glad you're here now?" There was only silence from the Weasleys.

Hermione looked at Luna, eyes pleading. "_Luna,_" she said, frowning. "This isn't good! Have you talked to anyone about this?"

"About Hide 'n Find?" Luna asked, yawning. "I haven't. No one has asked."

"We have to do something about this!" Hermione said, addressing everyone else now.

George finally spoke. "I say we jinx their heads off," he said, more calmly than he looked. Fred whooped in agreement, and they turned to leave. Hermione sighed, and grabbed them by their collars.

"Not tonight. Possibly tomorrow, but not tonight," she said tiredly. "We should all go to bed. We're already out past curfew. We should've brought the Invisibility Cloak." Everyone mumbled affirmatives except Fred and George, who mumbled curses.

"Oooh, I didn't know you had one of those, Hermione," Luna said, getting excited.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron looked at her, realizing that she didn't know a lot about them. That she hadn't been there all along, through all their adventures. And yet somehow, they felt after spending three weeks with her exactly how they'd felt after spending first year together, as if they'd known each other always. As if they were a family.


	14. The Weasley Brothers

**The Weasley Brothers**

Dawn broke on Luna Lovegood, sitting with her feet out the window, watching the sun come up. Her first year someone had tried to push her out. The storm had finally eased, but the sky was still bleak, and she went to breakfast alone. The Great Hall was nearly empty, but food filled the tables. She went to the Ravenclaw table and began to make herself toast, with billowing clouds swirling over her head.

It was a long time before the Great Hall filled up. Harry, Hermione, and Ron came down together, and looked immediately toward the Ravenclaw table. They walked toward Luna as a united front. They had planned this.

Luna was happy to see them. She smiled, and waved cheerily. "Hello, guys," she said.

"Luna, we have to talk," Hermione said plainly. Luna's face remained serene as ever.

"Of course," she said conspiratorially. "What about? The Hippogriff controversy happening in Blackpool?"

Hermione sighed and sat across from her. The boys followed suit. "We can't let those girls torture you anymore. I'm sorry, but it can't happen. Something has to change."

"Well, I don't mind change," Luna said after a pause. They looked at her expectantly. "What're you going to do?"

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks. Ron stared straight at Luna. "We're going to help you," he said confidently. Hermione turned and looked at him for a second before turning back to Luna and nodding.

"Yes," she said. "We are."

"Right," Harry added, after a nudge into the ribs from Hermione.

Luna nodded, her faraway eyes seeming to go right through them. "How?" she asked.

They squirmed for just a moment before they were joined by the previously unseen twins. They bookended the trio and looked at each other, then at Luna.

"Leave it to us," they said in tandem, and stood, walking purposefully away. Fred grabbed a couple of apples from the Hufflepuff table and tossed one to George. They strode out of the Great Hall.

"I suppose that's that," Hermione said with a shrug. She took a piece of toast off the table and began to slather it with jam.

"You're eating again!" Ron said incredulously.

"I decided there are better ways of making a stand about elf rights," Hermione sniffed, taking a big bite.

Ron grinned. "Yeah, and you were hungry." She opened her mouth full of half-chewed food and he grimaced as she giggled.

They ate breakfast.

The owls soared in to deliver the mail and Luna and Ginny sat side by side together, watching them deliver. They didn't expect anything, but Luna always enjoyed the spectacle. They chewed quietly.

"You aren't sitting with your friends today," Luna said to Ginny.

Ginny swallowed before answering, "You are my friend, Luna."

There was a pause before Luna responded, "That's nice."

Ginny smiled.


	15. It's Tough to Be a God

**It's Tough to Be a God**

Ginny and Luna had their first class together, Herbology. They gathered their things and walked there together. Harry, Ron, and Hermione had told her to be on the guard for anybody making fun of Luna, despite what Fred and George said. Luna had rolled her eyes, sick already of all the attention. It didn't bother her, but it didn't interest her either.

The trio told them they'd be across the grounds, at Hagrid's cabin, if they were needed. Even Ginny had to tell them that everything would be fine, and not to worry.

Luna was leaning against Ginny's chosen table before class, regaling her with stories of the fantastic things that could live in the plants surrounding them. Suddenly a sound a bit like weeping and a bit like screaming could be heard just outside the greenhouse doors. Professor Sprout stood quickly at the pitiful sound and walked to the door of the greenhouse.

"What on Earth are you doing out there, girl? And - oh!" Professor Sprout staggered backward. Cecilia stomped in and her eyes landed on Luna.

"_You,_" she growled. Her eyes were wild. Her mouth was twisted. She was covered in some sort of dung, and she smelt truly awful. She lunged herself toward Luna, and no one stopped her - mainly because touching her was a challenge.

Luna jumped and scrambled away from her, but a table blocked her escape. "I will _kill_ you," Cecilia screeched, and Ginny stepped in front of her.

"_Petrificus __Totalus!_" she shouted, and Cecilia seized up with a grunt, and fell to the ground.

There was silence for just a minute as the class gathered and stared at Cecilia's twisted, frozen face. Soon, though, they lost interest and began taking their intended seats. "It's the first day!" Professor Sprout said incredulously, going to charm the life back into her.

When she had regained control of her body, Cecilia was held up by Professor Sprout. "What are you doing, Cecilia?" she asked. "You could be expelled for attempting to cause harm to another student. Why are you covered in filth?"

"It was _her,_" Cecilia said with venom in her voice. "She did this!"

"But I didn't!" Luna said, surprised. "How could I?"

Cecilia lunged again toward Luna, held back miraculously by Sprout. Luna didn't flinch. "It was those Weasley boys!" Cecilia hissed. "As if you don't know. I swear, I'll kill you - "

"Miss Potts that is enough!" Sprout shouted to the girl struggling in her arms. "Go to the headmaster's office! And twenty points from Ravenclaw! Such lack of decorum I've never seen."

Half the class groaned. Cecilia stalked away, growling openly, and the Ravenclaws glared at Luna. It was silent as she tried to take a Ravenclaw seat and a girl plopped her bag down just as Luna set her eyes on it. She turned to another table and a boy propped his feet on the empty chair she saw. She stood there for a moment, unsure what to do, until Luna felt Ginny grab her arm.

"C'mon, Luna, you're sitting with me," Ginny said briskly, making way toward her friends' table on the Gryffindor side of the room. "Me and Leda will be glad to have you." Glares followed her every movement but Ginny stuck her tongue out at anyone that dared catch her eye.

The rest of the class passed without incident.

* * *

><p>" - but however did you do the spell in the first place? It's far to complicated for your age level and it's so old it's not even in the curriculum anymore."<p>

Fred leaned comfortably back in his armchair, putting his feet up on the stepstool. "You know us, Professor." Dumbledore smiled fondly at them.

George leaned forward, eyes gleaming subtly, grinning and smug. "Anything's possible." There was silence for a moment as Dumbledore cast his eyes down.

"This behavior is so troubling to me as a teacher, I'm sure you can imagine. While your creativity inspires me, your cruelty is astounding. Think of your victim. She's years younger than you, a mere child. There is plenty of time for her to make a change, and yet you persecute her."

"How is she going to do _c_ unless she gets consequences for her behavior?" Fred asked his headmaster, who chuckled.

"And that's your place, Fred? To decide who is punished? That's a dangerous line of thinking. You're a child yourself."

George was frowning now. "What they do is borderline torture. We could get the law involved, I reckon. It's that bad, and I can't have that happen. Luna needs our help."

Dumbledore studied George with a solemn look. "You have already grown to care for her," he said quietly.

Fred glanced at George before looking back at Dumbledore and quickly saying, "We have. We all have."

"Hard not to," George said mildly, staring straight into Dumbledore's eyes.

There was a long moment of still silence. Dumbledore looked carefully through George, and then he cleared his throat and sighed, glancing down. "You boys. You may help Luna anyway you like, as long as you leave the disciplinary actions to me. I hope that is very clear. Childish pranks are one thing, but organized abuse is intolerable. I won't stand for vigilantes in my school."

The twins stood together without a thought and after all these years Dumbledore still found their synchronicity disconcerting. "This is all depending on whether we're caught, isn't it, Professor?" Fred spoke innocently for the both of them as they squared their eyes on him.

Dumbledore suppressed a chill. "You will always be caught," he replied simply, shrugging slightly.

They took it as a challenge.


	16. Blackbird

**Blackbird**

Luna skipped down the corridor, because she enjoyed skipping. She hopped down each step on a hidden staircase and jumped across a spot where there were tiles missing - not because it was dangerous to step on the exposed floor, but because she felt like jumping. She reached the spot she always felt safest and pulled out her breakfast.

She sat cross-legged on a low wall. Arches surrounded her. Luna had found this place in her second year, on one of her good days. She remembered it vividly and pleasantly, that she'd woken as she always did at an early hour, in the darkness before dawn. She'd gone to explore. The mornings had always seemed to be the best time to do so. The most magical time. That day would be the day she put her finger on exactly why. That day was the day she found her garden.

It wasn't really a garden. It was most likely supposed to be, but it had been, for some reason, forgotten. Now low walls and high archways stood clothed in ivy, dark stone stark against light green. The altitude, Luna remembered from her studies with her father, was good for the plants. Or was it shade? Luna couldn't remember, and she pictured her father telling her, but she couldn't hear his voice.

Chewing unconcernedly on her toast she looked around and waited. Then, suddenly, it happened. From here she had the perfect angle, the perfect view: the spectacular sunrise appeared, and she closed her eyes and breathed in. It wasn't the brilliant oranges and the fascinating reds that drove her here. It was the sun shining straight into her bones as it just barely crawled past the mountains. It wasn't the promise of a new day that she craved, it was the connection she had with all of the universe as it happened. It was the sun breathing new life into her.

She stood again, and skipped back the way she came. She emerged from behind a tapestry depicting monks at prayer and ran directly into George Weasley's chest.

"Luna!" he shouted. It figured, he supposed, that she'd come out of the wall when he least expected it.

"George," she smiled.

They were standing alarmingly close. "I've been looking for you," he said too loudly.

"Why's that?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing.

He shrugged, opening and closing his mouth. "I… I dunno, I just didn't know where you were. Haven't talked to you since we got to Hogwarts, have I?"

"That's true," she sighed. "It's barely been a week, though."

"Yeah," he said, looking down. She followed his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" she asked, studying his shoes.

"Nothing," he replied, shaking his head. "Just looking for a place to look, I suppose." She frowned and wondered why he didn't look at her.

They decided to go to the Great Hall, as George hadn't eaten yet. They walked in silence, heads bowed and eyes lowered. George's stomach twisted. _Why __can__'__t __this __be __easy?_ That morning he'd woken to the thought of Luna, eyes opening and immediately shutting again, as if desperate to reclaim a dream already slipping away. Then he'd sat immediately up, checked the time and pulled on clothes, abandoning his bed and setting off in search of her. His feet had gone their own way, his mind still clouded with sleep until he'd collided into her.

He'd thought he'd know what to say. He thought he'd _had_ something to say, but it had eluded him. He'd been left standing before her, kicking his feet along the floor, avoiding her eyes. Like an idiot.

Soon they were sitting together at the Gryffindor table. He began to serve himself eggs and she poured herself pumpkin juice. When he could take it no longer he ventured, "H-how has school been going?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Surprisingly well," she said finally. "I supposed I would have lots more trouble with the girls in my house after you drenched one of them in dung, but I haven't. They do tend to sneer at me, but usually by now half my things are gone and I've been jinxed twice. Your prank helped a lot." She seemed truly grateful, blatantly sincere. This incited a full, powerful blush in George.

"Er, good. That was the point," he muttered, staring at his eggs. There was a bit more silence, and George waited for her to continue speaking. He rationalized that it was her turn - but the absence of sound didn't seem to bother her as it did him. Again he reached his breaking point, and he said, "Are you feeling alright, then?"

She looked at him as he took a bite. For the first time, it seemed, she looked at him completely blankly. She didn't appear as she did upon waking, dream-clouded and serene. His head still bowed as he toyed with his eggs but she kept looking. She couldn't bring herself to say it, not until he finally sensed it and returned her gaze. Not until his eyes met hers. Luna's voice seemed far away as she replied, "No. No, of course I'm not alright." This had been the first time she'd admitted it, even to herself, and she did it without thinking. Without fear of reproach.

In reply he coughed on his food.

She looked on serenely as he steadied himself. "Are you okay, George?" she asked.

He coughed a last time and looked up at her, smiling dolefully. "Better than you, I suppose," he said, and she she returned his smile with a sad one of her own.

"I'd like to go for a walk," she said.

He stood and offered her his hand.


	17. Such Small Hands

**Such Small Hands**

Fred Weasley sat straight up in bed, looked to his right, saw an empty bed, and gasped in a slightly screamy way.

He had come to the frightening conclusion that his twin was missing. He frantically kicked his blankets as far from him as possible and leaped out of bed, pulling off his pyjama trousers as he went.

A very confused Lee Jordan pushed himself up in bed, supported by a single arm, stretching with the other, blinking blearily into the sunlit morning. Looking to his right he said through a yawn, "Fred, mate, what're you - holy fuck, where's your brother?" He sat up a little more enthusiastically, wiping the sleep out of his eyes and refocusing to be completely sure George was gone. He crossed his legs and looked confusedly to Fred for explanation. "Wait, where - Fred? Fred, why're you standing there in your pants?" He didn't find any.

The reason Fred was standing semi-naked in the middle of his dorm would have been simple to explain had he been fully awake when it happened, but as he wasn't, Fred just stood there blinking slowly for a full minute.

"You have to understand how confusing this is for me," Lee said into the silence.

As they each dressed, one slightly more panicked than the other, they discussed where George could possibly be and for what reason they hadn't had to grab his feet and wrench him away from his four-poster, as was the norm.

"I think I know exactly where he is," Fred muttered angrily, rummaging through his things and finding a clean shirt.

"Oh, yeah? Where?" Lee asked, straightening his collar. Fred said nothing - very deliberately - and Lee's ears perked. Turning to his friend, he said again, this time smiley and sing-songy, "Where? _Where __is __your __brother?_"

"I don't know. I don't know why I said that," Fred said quickly, lacing his shoes up.

Lee's face fell. "You do know, and you're not telling me. You guys are the worst." Fred sighed and grimaced.

"I think he's with a girl," he said finally, putting his hands resolutely on his knees.

"No shit!" Lee shouted, jumping closer to Fred, onto his bed. "What girl? You have to tell me, Fred, or I will die."

Fred's face was beginning to get sore from looking so serious. "Lee, if you tell anyone anything I will break your neck, got it?" Lee nodded fervently, and Fred cast a look around at their other dormmates. They seemed to be sleeping, but Fred gestured at Lee to come closer anyway. Lee tumbled off of his bed and climbed onto Fred's. Fred pulled him by the collar and whispered into his ear, "Luna Lovegood." Fred, stood, stretched, and turned to Lee. "Now let's go find him."

As they descended the stairs into the common room, Lee whispered, "Who is that, anyway? She's not in our house, is she?"

Fred muttered back, "Ravenclaw, third year." Lee stopped, dumbstruck, on the steps. Fred hustled back and pulled him along.

"_Third __year __-_" Lee began, but Fred cut him off.

"I know, and that's not the worst bit." Lee looked worried. "Our family adopted her. She's, like, our foster sister."

Lee suppressed a groan. "But what's he thinking!" Lee shouted as the walked past a crowd of seventh-years.

Fred shushed him, putting his arm around Lee's neck and pulling as the seventh-years turned and scrutinized their retreating figures. "We can't let anyone find out," he said, casting suspicious glances around.

"_Obviously!_" Lee hissed.

Fred sighed as the reached the portrait hole, opening it for him. "Just to be fair, she does look old for her age. She looks about 15, actually."

Lee rolled his eyes. "So?" he scoffed.

"What about Christina Hammond?" Fred asked in a mocking voice.

"Oh, _Christina Hammond,_" Lee said angrily. "I was just _waiting_ for you to bring her up. She was actually just about to turn sixteen and either way, my bad decisions are not an excuse for having a crush on a thirteen year old." Fred climbed in after him, frowning at Lee's tone.

"Watch it, mate, he's still our Georgie. And anyway, she does look 15, you'll see."

* * *

><p>Luna and George had found themselves in a secluded portion of the grounds, and they lounged on the grass, George pulling at it leisurely, Luna reveling in the sun. "Don't you love this time of year?" she asked. "When it's just about to turn cold, but you still get these nice sunny days." Then there was quiet.<p>

"Luna, what's made you sad?" George asked.

Luna looked contemplatively up at the sky, falling back onto her elbows. "My father's death," she said simply.

George didn't know what he was doing. He hoped it was helping. "What's the worst bit?" he asked, studying her face.

Her eyes became lost in the rolling clouds. "Not knowing," she answered.

"What d'you mean? Not knowing what?"

"I mean why he did it. Why'd he kill himself? Why'd he want to die?"

"You don't have a clue?"

"No one's asked that, you know," she said, and they let the oppressive silence engulf them.

It seemed to last ages. The clouds continued rolling above them, and she continued looking through them. "Sometimes I feel like when I lost him, I got cut off from the world."

He didn't ask what she meant, but he didn't understand. She continued.

"I always felt connected to the world, and the Earth. Daddy used to tell me all these stories, but they weren't stories. They were in me, it was like I had always known them. It was like the lines were blurred where I ended and the world began. It made me feel safe. It wasn't even anything I had to think about. That's how I did my magic, when I was a kid. I made things grow. There's a tree outside my house, a plum tree that grew overnight. Nobody even noticed for a year or two. That's how my mum told me she knew I was going to be an excellent witch." She stopped abruptly, swallowing. She sat up and looked at him.

"What's wrong?" George said, alarmed.

"I'd forgotten she said that," Luna said, smiling at him. It occurred to her that they hadn't been in this position since the day they'd chased the dog. "I am monopolizing the conversation, aren't I?"

"I don't mind," George said quietly. "As long as it makes you feel better."

She shrugged.

* * *

><p>"Is that them?"<p>

"Of course it's them, Lee! Look, all snuggled together, it's sickening!"

"Oh, they aren't snuggled together, are they? That isn't a snuggle. At least, it isn't like any of the snuggles I've had. I'll tell you that much. No, I wouldn't call it a snuggle... It's less a snuggle, and more of - "

"Lee!" Fred burst. "If you say snuggle one more time I'll snuggle right up to you and snap your neck."

Lee rolled his eyes. "Okay, Mr Grumpy. This has really got your knickers in a twist."

"Right," Fred muttered. "Here's our plan of action - " Before he could say another word Lee had pushed him out of their bush.


End file.
